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#because he doesn’t feel mandalorian enough
davnittbraes · 9 months
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Disney is like that manipulative passive-aggressive romantic partner who’s all “yeah sure baby you can go hang out with your new friends without me I don’t mind at all” and then proceeds to brutally erase every aspect of your relationship from their life and post all over social media about how they love being single while you’re still out there singing their praises about how loving and supportive they are.
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lincolndjarin · 8 months
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Best Kept Secret ☆
A MANDALORIAN SERIES MASTERLIST
[ COMPLETED ]
✩ a bodyguard!din x princess!reader fic ✩
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series summary :
Married off to a prince on a planet that you hate? New husband doesn't know you, and doesn't want to know you? New husband gifts you a personal Mandalorian body guard as a wedding present? Mandalorian is a wiseass who won't leave you alone? Lucky you.
18+ mdni
do you like kitschy, campy romance novels? if you're reading this, I hope so.
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behind the scenes & chapter notes + other extras (spoilers) :
chapters 1-5
chapter 6-15
spotify playlists
Lysa & Elaine information
the bks screen adaption
bks q&a
bks what if's
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reader is generally not described past being picked up a few times, and having hair long enough to be put up
✩ chapters containing smut!
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chapter one : honeymoon (6.7k words)
[ Absurd.
That is the only word that comes to mind as you stare at yourself in the mirror. “His favorite color is blue.” ]
chapter two : silent treatment (7.4k words)
[ Something is wrong. You bolt up from the pile of blankets that you call a bed and your eyes dart around the closet as you furrow your brow trying to discern why you feel so much different. ]
✩ chapter three : the smitten paladin (4.6k words)
[ You’re starting to think the planet isn’t the reason you’re so hot all the time.
You had woken up this morning feeling a bit better than you thought you’d be, your stomach is full of butterflies but you're still standing and considering the night you had you’re gonna take that as a win. ]
chapter four : sarad'ika (6.8k words)
[ Sarad'ika. 
You won’t forget it this time, you can’t. So you write it in your book, just under Mando’s favorite color you write the two little words that have been keeping you up at night. ]
✩ chapter five : lunar interlude : just a man (5.0k words)
[ Absurd.
It’s absurd how much the job pays. Din’s not even sure he should take it at this point because it’s too good to be true. ]
✩ chapter six : torment (5.1k words)
[ Okay, maybe you didn’t think this through. 
You didn’t think he’d actually come in and now suddenly the door is shut and you’re alone with him. ]
✩ chapter seven : just friends (3.1k words)
[ Maker it feels like it’s been an hour and you’re both just laying here. He was just inside of you; it shouldn't be so hard to find something to talk about at this point. ]
chapter eight : solar markets (5.3k words)
[ It’s nice to wake up excited again. 
You wish you could say that it happened more often but hopefully it will from now on. It’s going to be your first time leaving the castle grounds since you got here. ]
✩ chapter nine : shuk'la rules (5.6k words)
[ You need sex.
Normally you would be satisfied for quite some time after getting off but for some reason with Mando it was different. But it’s only been two days and you need more. ]
✩ chapter ten : lunar interlude : briikase gote'tuur (4.1k words)
[ He’s grateful for the break from you, even if brief. 
That’s not to say that he doesn’t enjoy every moment he gets to be in your presence but the more time he spends with you the harder it gets to remember that this isn’t real. ]
chapter eleven : he loves me not (4.6k words)
[ Something is wrong. 
All day it’s been wrong. 
He’s different. Distant. ]
chapter twelve : pretend (4.4k words )
[ Two days.
That’s what you’re willing to give yourself. Two days to get over it. One to get it all out of your system and one to pull yourself together. ]
chapter thirteen : lunar interlude : vercopa (3.5k words)
[ He did it.
He did exactly what he knew he needed to do.
So why does he feel worse than ever? ]
chapter fourteen : condemned (4.9k words)
[ You’re having trouble sleeping. 
You have no problem falling asleep, it’s mostly staying asleep. There’s a million different things that consume your thoughts and everytime you drift into unconsciousness you find yourself jolting awake, barely able to stay asleep for more than an hour at a time. ]
chapter fifteen : two tea parties (5.4k words)
[ “What did you do to her?”
Her voice breaks through his sleepy haze as he sits up properly. 
“Excuse me?” ]
chapter sixteen : absolution (4.6k words)
[ There’s a visceral sense of dread when you wake up, for several reasons. 
The glaring obvious culprit of your discomfort would be the fact that today’s your husband's birthday. ]
chapter seventeen : the apostate’s cabin (3.5k words)
[ Just Din. 
It’s sinking in as you walk in silence, holding his hand tightly as he pulls you towards his home. ]
chapter eighteen : portrait of a man (5.4k words)
[ It’s deliciously warm when you wake. You can feel his heartbeat and you can feel the soft traces of sunlight dancing along your back. You stretch in his arms slightly but freeze up as you feel him nuzzle his chin into your hair, planting a kiss against your hairline. ]
✩ chapter nineteen : reverence (7.3k words)
[ You really want to. 
You couldn’t possibly want to more than you currently do. 
It’s actually a bit mean. That he’s left you here in this state. ]
✩ chapter twenty : like real people do (8.4k words)
[ Mando and Din. 
All you can think about right now is how there must be two of them. 
You’re playing with his curls. ]
✩ chapter twenty one : te mirci't (9.0k words)
[ “It means I love you.” 
You aren’t entirely sure how long you stare at him, looking rather silly with your jaw practically on the floor. ]
✩ chapter twenty two : it’s you that i lie with (11.3k words)
[ Naboo has several trading ports. 
You could get him on a cargo ship. That would be the most inconspicuous form of transport. It would help if he was willing to ditch his armor. ]
✩ chapter twenty three : lunar markets (15.0k words)
[ Sneaking out of the castle gets easier every time you do it. 
It only takes a few minutes and you’re walking outside towards the forest trail, Din’s hand in yours, still giddy. ]
✩ chapter twenty four : lunar interlude : riduur (7.8k words)
[ He doesn’t deserve this.
How could he possibly be deserving of you? Yet somehow you make him feel as if he is. With your soft touch and the way your eyes get just a little bigger when you see him. ]
✩ chapter twenty five : wedding bells (11.7k words)
[ Four days of Leo. 
You were upset that Din was leaving you but you got over it rather quickly with the promise of his hasty return. ]
chapter twenty six : crucifixion (12.7k words)
[ “My room is too big.” 
He bursts into genuine peals of laughter and you gently smack his arm.
“Don’t laugh, it’s a serious issue! My room is enormous.” ]
chapter twenty seven : the apostate (6.0k words)
[ Silence.
That’s all there is in his brain. 
It’s hard enough as is for him to hear. It doesn’t help when he’s been beaten half to death. ]
✩ chapter twenty eight : a place for us (8.4k words)
[ You’d spent the better half of the day trying to get on top of him. 
Every time you managed to get close he’d simply set you down on the nearest surface with a kiss on the cheek and go back to doing whatever he was working on. ]
chapter twenty nine : the best kept secret (epilogue) (6.1k words)
[ The morning sun is warm against your face, you bask in it, unmoving and only half awake until you feel a tiny hand slapping your cheek. The illusion of tranquility is immediately shattered as you softly laugh. ]
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beskarandblasters · 5 months
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Me and My Husband
Chapter Three: Nobody Fucks Like Me
Married!Din Djarin x F!Reader
Series Masterlist | Series Playlist
Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist
Synopsis: Din Djarin is doing what any typical Mandalorian would be doing after reclaiming Mandalore, finding a riduur and settling down. He’s still a member of the Guild on Nevarro, taking bounties here and there to support his new family. But when he meets you while you’re working the front desk at an inn on Naboo, he finds himself hooked, feeling like he’s found something new and exciting in his now mundane life. How long can he keep up appearances with his riduur? And how long can he keep his little secret with you?
Series warnings: reader is able-bodied, set post season 3, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), some liberties taken with Mandalorian culture/weddings/marriages, infidelity, eventual smut (chapter two!), switches between Reader and Din's POV, no use of y/n
Chapter summary: Din finds himself unable to stop thinking about you so he tells his riduur he's leaving for another bounty, but instead he goes to Naboo to look for you.
Word count: 4.1k
Chapter warnings: Reader does not know Din's name yet, Din has mediocre sex with his riduur, lying, paranoia, pet names, Mandalorian words/phrases (translations included after), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie
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Din
The guilt is eating Din alive. Every time he looks at his riduur’s helmet, let alone her face, he’s consumed with a nauseous feeling, the guilt threatening to force its way out of his throat and speak itself into existence. He hasn’t told a soul about you. He can’t. This secret is too precious; too delicate. He’s aching to see you, but he’s also scared of how hard he’s beginning to fall for you. Sure he’s had flings here and there. But none of those even came close to the feelings he has for you. 
It’s been nine rotations since he last saw you, not counting the time it took him to get to Mandalore from Naboo with a quick pit stop to Nevarro. He had to stop at the market and pick up some supplies. Gotta make his fake cover story of going after a bounty believable somehow. 
In his time away from you the Mandalorians have developed a way of sending and receiving transmissions that can penetrate the barrier of Mandalore’s atmosphere. Even though it’s a wonderful feat and extremely impressive on behalf of the Mandalorians, it’s just another obstacle Din has to deal with if he’s going to keep seeing you. Because now instead of just not expecting transmissions from May at all, he’ll receive them and it’ll be blatantly obvious he’s ignoring her. 
His need to see you outweighs his guilt. Nine rotations (and then some) is too long to be away from you. He wonders if you think about him in his absence. You have to, right? What if you didn’t think he was good enough? What if he was just a fling for you? He needs to know if you feel the same way. And he has to see you again.
But there’s also another problem he’s dealing with… May wants to have sex. And he’s been pushing it off for a while. They’ve been married for well over thirty rotations now. And typically Mandalorians have sex on their wedding night after seeing their riduur’s face for the first time. But May knew that Din was a little hesitant and rightfully so. The marriage was a tad rushed, a product of the peer pressure and pressure Din put on himself. Except now his excuses are running out and she’s getting antsy. 
“Din?” she asks softly while sitting at the kitchen table. 
He doesn’t have to ask what, he already knows what this is about. They just got done eating dinner, their helmets set on the edge of the table perched side by side. Grogu’s just about ready to fall asleep, nodding off while he sits in May’s lap. 
“Do you think tonight could be the night?”
He wants to let out a deep sigh but he knows that will just hurt her feelings. He’s not in love with her but he also doesn’t want any harm to come her way. 
“Yes, May,” he responds, words coming out soft and hesitant, as if you’re somewhere around him in earshot, listening to his promise to fuck another woman. 
“Really?” she asks, eyes lighting up. 
Her hand is resting on the table. He reaches out and pats it lightly, responding with, “Mhm. Let’s get him down for bed first.”
She gets up from her seat, Grogu scooped up into her arms and resting against her chest. He’s fast asleep now. Putting him down for bed will take no time at all. Meaning less time to waste before… the act. Maker, he’s messed up. What kind of man actively avoids sex with his new riduur?
They’re in their bedroom now, meticulously removing their armor and stripping down to their flight suits. The thing is… he’s not nervous about what she’s going to think of his naked form or his cock. He only cares what you think of him. But he also knows that May is nervous about what he thinks of her. And if he responds with a less-than-enthusiastic reaction it’ll eat away at her confidence; her self-image. She is pledging herself to him in the most raw, unfiltered, and honest way she can. The least he can do is try to act like she’s doing it for him. And deep down he’s hoping that having sex with May will unlock the spark within him; that he’ll become so in love and so devoted to her that he’ll forget all about you. The hopeful part of him wants to believe this to be true but the cynical part of him knows that nothing will compare to you. And he hasn’t even seen all of you yet or received everything you have to offer him. 
She starts taking off her flight suit before Din does. He realizes he should follow suit and begins taking his off. And before he knows it they’re standing in front of each other completely naked and open to the other person. Her eyes scan his form, taking in every scar, freckle, and line. He does the same for her not because he wants to, but because he’s just following her lead. 
“You’re beautiful, Din,” she says, stepping closer. Her eyes move down to his left bicep where he has a simple tattoo, a black ring encircling his arm, about the width of his pointer finger and middle finger together. 
“You, too, May,” he gulps. 
“When did you get this? she asks, running her thumb over the inked skin. Her touch triggers goosebumps across his flesh, and not in a good way.
“A long time ago," he replies, offering her nothing more.
“Are you nervous?” she asks. 
“A little,” he says, avoiding her eyes. 
“Don’t be,” she says, cupping his face with her hand, “This is what we’re supposed to do.”
“I know,” he responds, closing his eyes. 
All he can do is pray to the Maker that this doesn’t last long. 
She’s shorter than him so she stands on her tiptoes to kiss him. At first, it’s chaste and quick but he puts more effort in and starts to kiss her back. His hands are at his sides and she has to pull back and whisper “Hold me.”
And he hesitantly does, moving his hands ever so slowly towards her back. He knows she’s expecting him to take the lead so he pushes against her lightly, directing her towards the bed. She falls back onto the bed, lying down and spreading her legs apart for him. He kneels between her thighs, bringing his fingers to his mouth and moistening them. He could eat her out right now but he wants your cunt to be the one he tastes first, not hers. He slides one finger inside, trying his hardest to not rush through fingering her. 
Her eyes close and her breathing starts to pick up. “More,” she softly moans. 
He slides another finger in, curling it against her walls but also while zoning out. He mindlessly fingers her until she cums. He’s glad it’s over but he also knows that she’s going to ask to do something for him; something he’s just not in the mood for. 
He pulls his fingers out of her and they’re soaked. But he just finds himself thinking about his exact situation with you. He wipes his fingers on his thigh while her eyes are still closed so she can’t see what he did. 
“Did you want me to… you know… do anything for you?” she asks, sitting a little and resting on her elbows.
“No, I’m okay,” he says, shaking his head.
He spits in his hand and strokes his cock, willing it to be completely hard already. Maker, why is this so hard for him? May’s not a bad-looking woman and she’s his riduur. Even if you weren’t part of the equation he would still be having a hard time doing this. But when he considers you, he finds himself doing mental gymnastics to get him in the right mindset for this. His cock cooperates with him though and he’s hard (enough) finally. 
He leans forward and aligns himself with her entrance, thrusting into her slowly. She gasps at the sensation of being filled by him. They’re face to face, looking into each other’s eyes. She’s looking at him with all of the love and admiration in the entire galaxy, gazing into the eyes of her future. While he has to force himself to keep his eyes open and not imagine it’s you instead. He feels her tighten around his cock, she’s going to cum soon. At least it’ll finally be over soon. With one last thrust of his hips into her she cums around him, her walls contracting and releasing intensely before slowing down to a rhythmic pattern. He pulls out and cums. But it’s not fulfilling in the slightest, just a biological reaction, nothing emotional about it. 
He pulls out of her, resting by her side. She rolls over to face him, a hand tracing up and down his bicep. Her pupils are blown wide and she’s got the look of love in her eye. 
“Did you enjoy that?” she asks sweetly.
“Of course.”
“Up for a round two?”
“I’m getting tired.”
“No worries.”
“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum (I love you),” she whispers. 
He repeats the phrase back to her, not because he feels it, of course. But out of obligation; to keep up appearances. He falls asleep on his back, with May pressed up against him. The guilt weighs heavy on his mind, feeling that somehow he has betrayed you.
-
In the morning when they wake up May sits up and asks, “When do you think you’ll head out for your next bounty? I think we need some things from the market on Nevarro.”
He tries not to sound too excited when he responds. 
“I can go today if you’d like.”
“That’s fine with me,” she says, getting up out of bed and starting to put her flight suit back on. 
“I promised Bo-Katan I’d help her map out where the new docking yards and storage houses are going to go,” she continues while attaching her armor. 
“You’re still good to watch Grogu, right?” he asks, sitting at the edge of the bed. 
“Of course,” she says, turning to face him with all of her armor on except for her helmet.
“How many times do I have to tell you? He’s our son. I’m not “watching” him. I’m taking care of him like a mother would.”
“You’re right,” Din says curtly, standing up to put his flight suit on. 
“I’m heading out now. Bring him to Bo-Katan’s for me?” she says, standing in the doorway. 
“Yes, once I’m finished preparing for the trip.”
“See you soon!” she calls over her shoulder. She grabs her helmet from the kitchen table and heads out. 
He lets out a sigh once she’s gone. At least he’ll get to have a little bit of alone time with his son before he leaves. He finishes putting his armor on and heads into Grogu’s room, getting him out of his sleeping pod. He babbles happily when he sees Din and it makes Din’s heart pang with joy. He could do this, Din thinks to himself. He could do this whole settling down on Mandalore thing if it were just him and Grogu, maybe even just the two of them on Nevarro together. But he got too carried away following what others were doing and felt the need to fit in; felt the need to devote himself to his creed and his people. Some days when he’s feeling particularly sour he questions if all this is worth it, giving up his free will to devote himself to a greater good. But he quickly puts that thought out of his mind. He owes his life to the Mandalorians, to the Children of the Watch. And to be anything but grateful for them would be against his character. 
He scoops Grogu into his arms and takes him into the kitchen, feeding him breakfast from what’s left over from his last trip to Nevarro. The Mandalorians have been getting better at farming in the barren climate that is Mandalore so if Din is gone for a while on his next trip to see you he won’t feel too guilty, hopefully. 
After breakfast is finished Din puts on his helmet and takes Grogu to the Razor Crest in his pouch, enjoying some quality time with his son before leaving him for a while again. He makes sure he has enough supplies and rations for his trip and then heads back into the village to bring Grogu to Bo-Katan’s house. Her house is a mirror image of his and May’s house; a utilitarian house made of stone. In fact, the whole village is made up of houses like that. The Mandalorians are ones for function, not so much style. But some Mandalorians painted small designs that matched the color of their armor or their clan signets. Din hasn’t gotten around to doing theirs yet, figuring May would take it upon herself to. 
May and Bo-Katan are talking outside and Din swears for a second they’re talking about him. But that’s probably just his paranoia coming through. May has no reason to not believe Din’s stories about heading out for bounties. It’s not a total lie. He’s just leaving out the parts that include you and rightfully so. You’re Din’s little secret; his guilty pleasure. He doesn’t even want to think about the day when your relationship is brought to light, because if he plays his cards right that won’t happen at all. 
“Heading out again, Din?” Bo-Katan asks. 
“Mhm. Back to Nevarro to collect another job.”
“Who knew that being a member of the Guild while living here could be so… prosperous,” she continues. 
“It’s been great!” May chimes in, “He’s been such a great provider for our family.”
“I’m glad it’s all working out. Especially since we can send and receive transmissions now. You two will be able to keep in touch while he’s gone.”
“You’re right. In fact, while I was preparing the ship, I already sent a transmission to Karga. Got two jobs waiting for me.”
“That’s my hardworking riduur!” May cheerfully exclaims. 
How awkward for Din. 
“It’s nice to see you two so happy,” Bo-Katan smiles as Din passes off Grogu to May. 
“You better get going. Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” May says as she takes Grogu in her arms.
Din repeats the phrase back to her, his words coming out stiff and unconvincing. Bo-Katan raises an eyebrow at him, looking at him like she can see the nervous look on his face under the helmet. He says his goodbyes quickly, turning and heading back to the ship. If they weren’t talking about him before they’re surely talking about him now. Whatever, he can’t think about that now. His obligations to May are satisfied for the moment and now he gets to focus on you. 
He takes off for Naboo, leaving Mandalore’s treacherous atmosphere and trying to not think about when he’ll receive a transmission from May, since that’s a thing he has to worry about now. 
In the few rotations it takes to get to Naboo he follows a certain routine; sleeping, eating rations, making sure the Crest is still following the correct path, and masturbating to thoughts of you of course. In his cot under the dim light of the Crest and the blue haze of hyperspace, he thinks of you and what you would be doing if you were here right now with him. He tries not to think about how insane it is that he’s crossing the galaxy for sex but he also knows that this could be more than just sex. If he gets the chance to know you that is. 
Eventually, his jaunt across space comes to an end and the grassy knolls and the vast swamps of Naboo are coming into view. The sun is starting to set and the entire landscape is cast in an amber glow. Hopefully, you’re working since that’s where Din knows to look for you first. But he also hopes you’ll be getting off of work soon and he can have you all to himself. 
Now that he knows where the Star-Lux is, he just parks on that side of Theed, making his walk to you rather brief. The plains turn into stone-covered streets beneath his feet and soon enough he’s standing in front of the Star-Lux. He takes a deep breath, hoping you’re at the front desk and heads inside. 
You 
You’re leaning against the front desk, resting your head on your hand, tapping your fingers along the stone countertop, and glancing back and forth at the clock. You close your eyes, willing the time to go by faster. The door opens and you sense someone coming towards the desk quickly. You think it’s an angry customer, so you open your eyes and brace yourself. But instead it’s the person you want to see most, Mando. 
He rests his elbows on the desk, reaching for your hand and locking his visor onto your eyes. 
“I need a room,” he says, his tone urgent. 
“S-Sure. Anything for you,” you say, glancing down at your data pad. 
“Do you get off soon?” he asks, still holding your hand. 
“In about thirty minutes.”
“Meet me in my room when you’re done?” he says, hope in his voice.
“Do you even have to ask?” you respond, complete with a sly grin. 
“Let me get set up,” you continue, letting go of his hand to set up his reservation. 
“How much?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Really?”
“Mhm. Room 115,” you say, handing him his key card. 
“Thirty minutes?” he asks, taking the card in his hand. 
“Thirty minutes.”
His gaze lingers on you for just a moment before he sets off down the hallway. Man if time wasn’t moving slow as hell before it sure is now. You know exactly what’s going to happen as soon as you enter that room and you can’t wait. Not even just to be fucked by him but also to lay with him, enjoy his company, and ask him questions. You’ve been reading about the Mandalorians and their culture in the library since you last saw him but it’s different to learn about it all from the real source. 
After what feels like hours Maree shows up and trades places with you. You can’t run to Mando’s door fast enough. As soon as you knock he opens the door, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you inside. The door closes behind you and he presses you up against it, keeping his hands on your waist and bringing his helmet beside your ear.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he confesses. 
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” you giggle. 
He pulls you over to the bed, pushing you down lightly. He hikes up the skirt of your dress and you spread your legs for him. He starts to undress you, taking off each of your shoes, pulling off each of your stockings, and finally hooking his fingers around your panties and sliding them off. He crouches down on the bed, resting on his arms and looking at your cunt; looking at how wet it already is. 
“I wish I could taste it, but I can’t.”
“You’re a member of the Children of the Watch, aren’t you?” you ask, sitting up a tad and resting on your elbows.
“How did you know?”
“I read about Mandalorians in the library…  And I learned what mesh’la means,” you smirk.
“I meant it,” he says, visor meeting your eyes again. You feel your cheeks heat up.
He trails two fingers up and down your entrance, the feeling ever so light; so teasing. You whine in response and he just chuckles.
“I’m taking my time with you.”
“Yeah?” you ask, resting on your back again.
“Mhm. Now that I have you in a bed, not in some alley.”
He slides one finger in, extra slow, curling it against your walls. He adds a second and then removes both of them quickly, holding his hand up. He rubs his thumb against his index and middle fingers before drawing his thumb back and watching your wetness stretch and follow the movement.
“You’re so wet,” he says softly, “So wet for me.” Almost like he’s in disbelief that you got this wet just for him. When in reality you can’t believe he wants you so bad, so bad that he’s crossing the galaxy for you.
“Please, I can’t wait any longer,” you whine. 
And he obliges, returning his fingers inside you and leaning forward so his helmet is by your face. He watches you intently, watching the way your face changes as you get closer. He curls his fingers against your g-spot and rubs his thumb around your clit. Your mouth falls into a soft O, your pleasure coming to a head. The floodgates are threatening to burst. 
“I’m gonna cum,” you breathe out. 
“Cum for me, cyar’ika (sweetheart).”
And you do. Your walls flutter around his fingers, slicking his glove completely. His visor leaves your face for a split second to look down at the way your cunt grips his fingers before looking back at you. You wish you could see him; see the face of the man who’s making you feel heavenly. But there’s also something about not seeing his face that’s exhilarating and intriguing. 
He pulls his fingers from you when you’re done coming. Once you’ve caught your breath you say, “Let me take care of you.”
“Please,” he says quickly, not missing a beat.
You sink to the floor and he sits at the edge of the bed. His cock is already pitching a tent in his flight suit, begging to be freed. You take it out, holding his length in your hand and getting a better look at it now that you’re face to face with it. The size is intimidating and you can’t believe you’ve already had it inside you. 
You start by stroking it softly, now getting to take your time with him. He lets out a groan from under the helmet. And then ever so slowly you swirl your tongue around the tip, repeating that a few times before taking him in your mouth. You bob your head up and down all while stroking the base. 
“Kriff,” he curses under his breath.
One of his hands cups your cheek as you suck him off and his visor is locked on you. You cup his balls as you start to suck harder, feeling him twitch inside your mouth. He must be getting close.
He stops you, pulling himself out of your mouth and saying, “I need you. Now.”
You nod and rise from the floor, pulling off your dress over your head. You lay down, spreading your legs for him once again. He situates himself between your thighs, running a hand along your outline and looking at your naked form. And you get to look directly at him this time, instead of being pressed up against the wall. 
Wasting not another second, he thrusts into you, hooking his arms around your thighs and leaning forward. He folds you in half, driving his cock into you further. With this new angle, he hits places you never even thought possible, his cock spitting you in half with his girth. 
“Mando, I'm gonna cum,” you whine. 
“Soak my cock, mesh’la.”
With one last slam of his hips, you’re coming undone around him, shockwaves of pleasure originating at your core and spreading outwards. Your back arches and tears spring in the corners of your eyes as you ride out your high, feeling the intense peaks and valleys, before slowing to a soft ebb and flow. Mando lets out a guttural moan, helmet thrown back in pleasure. He cums, too, keeping the head of his cock flush against your cervix as he spills his cum inside you. 
He pulls out of you, collapsing on the bed next to you and immediately pulling you into him. You’re both silent for a moment, unsure of what the next move is.
“I do have the place for the night…”
“Are you asking me to stay over?” you tease, head resting on the cool breastplate. 
“…Yes.”
“Okay, again… Did you really think you had to ask?”
He chuckles, a hand running up and down your back, lulling you to sleep. 
“About that other thing I called you-”
“Already know what that means, too.”
Another chuckle. “Well then goodnight, cyar’ika,” he says, reaching over to turn off the lamp. 
“Goodnight, Mando.”
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Chapter Four
End note: Ahhhh the lies get deeper and deeper!! As always let me know your thoughts🤍
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pettyprocrastination · 10 months
Note
hiiiiii tj <3
i see you're back in your konig era and was wondering if you have any new hcs for our big teddy bear <3
HIIII ERIIIII :D
warnings: description of bullying, violence, social anxiety, insecurities, smut
SFW
So for me personally he’s very. Socially inept. Not in a ‘cute soft anxiety boy’ way but in the way that he will come off either deeply unsettling by staring at you in silence or like a total fucking asshole. Spent his entire childhood severely bullied and ostracized so any sort of slight against him, he will take personally and gets easily frustrated with himself for not handling situations/social intricacies smoothly
Probably has plenty of stretch marks from having such a big growth spurt growing up. 
Something about being severely bullied and then realizing his own size and strength means he could give his harassers some ferociousness back as a teen def…led to something. 
I HC that he has some pretty severe scarring on his face from being ganged up on as a kid, which only furthered him being an outsider to other kids/teens growing up so he wears his hood or some sort of facial covering on base as well. Severe trauma and all that. 
Most definitely has a criminal record from when he was a kid and fought back against a bully after said incident and ended up just getting tunnel vision and…destroying that poor kid. The case was either sealed because he was a minor or expunged completely because the argument was that it was in self defense and he had the scars to prove their previous assaults on him. Nonetheless. It left him fucked up. 
Shifting from being the defenseless kid being harassed and bullied to a bloodied teenager that now knows his strength and his capabilities in defending himself. Ough. 
Part of the reason he sheds his insecurities on the field. He’s able to not worry about being watched or ridiculed and just go full fucking ham and he loves it. Part of the reason why his voice lines are so shrieky and gloating. I love it lmao. 
If you’re on his side/somebody he considers to be an ally/friend? He may not talk much but will sort of…loom about. Small interjections here and there but overall just this shadow following you around- not that you mind. 
Will look over at you when he does something successfully for a bit of praise like ‘hey? Did you see that? Wasn’t that cool? Please tell me im cool’ without saying it outloud. 
I’m not sure if him being 6’10 is genuine canon (i can’t remember where I saw that if im being honest) but id imagine given how tall he looks finding clothes that fit him are a fucking pain. 
DIY king. At his height and size he will have to do the occasional alterations on his clothes. Grew up with a single mother who did her all to give her baby boy a good life which meant teaching him how to sew from a young age, a small hobby he would partake in while sitting at his mother’s side and beam bright when she told him he was doing a good job. 
Enjoys being in the wilderness quite a bit. 
I imagine him to be a ginger for some reason. His hair isn’t too long but enough that he can tie it up so it doesn’t get in his face. If you become close enough to him that you can see him without his hood on, please run your fingers through his hair he will reach nirvana. 
I’d also imagine that after spending so long covering his face, being without it feels. Weird. A touch overstimulating at first too. 
Sort of like how in that one ep of the mandalorian season two where din has to take off his helmet to get into that database, you see all his emotions and him react to the wind hitting his face because he isn’t used to it. 
NSFW
That being said. Once you kiss him he’s a bit of an addict for it. Won’t be out of the norm to find him pulling you back into his lap with a whisper of “one more, liebling? Please?” when you have to leave for a briefing in five minutes but then he nibbles at that spot on your neck and you just can’t say no to him. 
Not a virgin, but not overly experienced either. I’d imagine there’s been a few flings in the past of folks who have met this quiet giant and just had to suck him off cause I mean, who wouldn’t? But the genuine intimacy of face to face, holding one another while fucking? It’s a rarity he hasn’t truly been able to experience yet. 
Big dick and doesn’t realize it.
Loves a good makeout sesh. Doesn’t care if it’s juvenile or whatever if you sit on his lap and put on a movie in the background he will make out for fucking hours with his hand slipping up your shirt and pressing himself against your hips.
Tit man. Maybe it’s because I’m a fan of the honkers myself and i'm just projecting but the dude loooves to play with his partner’s chest. Big? small? Flat? He doesn’t give a fuck. Titties are titties please for the love of god let him touch you 
Kinda goes insane for the type of shirt where he can see the outline of your tits through it if you aren’t wearing a bra. Don’t be surprised if he corners you during the day and scolds you for being “So cruel” to him by wearing it before he starts mouthing at your chest through the fabric. 
Kissing, sucking, biting, licking, the man loves tits and will do it all god bless him. 
Nipple piercings will make his head explode
Loooves eating pussy. SO so much. Will go to the point where you have to pull on his hair to get him off of you and then he has the audacity to look at you with those sad eyes and ask for one more. 
Loves loves loves when you leave hickeys on him. He’ll never get in trouble for having them since he’s covered from head to toe at all times in the field but man does it get him riled up. Sees it as some sort of mark of your relationship to him, a little reminder for him to see in the mirror after your night together and he will plead for you to mark him up, he’s tough he can take it. 
“You can do it for me, can’t you? I know you can. Just one more, yes?” 
The type to kiss the pussy first, he’s a romantic. 
Will mumble/moan praise while between your legs. Talking about how pretty your pussy is and how you're so soft all over it has you completely braindead. 
Absolutely obscene with it, moaning and sloppy damn near drooling between your legs because he’s so drunk on you. 
Has no preference to where he gets to cum. Sex with you is joy itself but if you were to twist his arm: he’d say he likes to cum inside of you. 
He won’t say that he likes it so much because then he can lean back and watch his cum seep out of your hole, that’s his little secret. (Not a well kept one lmao) 
Probably has a porno-esque fantasy of a “sparring turned to sex” scenario that he keeps tucked away in the back of his mind at all times.
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Note
hi idk if u take requests, but if u do could u write a Din x Reader where the reader gets really sunburnt and she doesn’t want to be a burden to Din so she doesn’t tell him, and then when he finds out he helps her treat it? I’d love if they admitted their feelings for each other in the end..
Din Djarin x Female!Reader
Warning: injury, mentions of blood and pain, self doubt and anxiety
Word Count: 1,890
a/n: i changed 'sunburnt' to a different injury and i hope that's okay. i only did that b/c if i wrote the reader as sunburnt i'd have to describe her skin color, and i like to keep my drabbles as inclusive as possible. hope you don't mind!
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COMMON MISTAKE
"Pylades: I'll take care of you.
Orestes: It's rotten work.
Pylades: Not to me. Not if it's you."
.
Din told you to be careful. Actually, his exact words were, ‘Stop playing with your karking knife’. You, in all your excellent brilliance, had mouthed off a passive acknowledgement before continuing to play with your vibroblade. Although, ‘play’ was a strong word. You just wanted to get good at spinning it in your hand. Before you left Mandalore, you had seen Paz do it and since then you were determined to master that skill.
So, the summary was, Din told you to be careful, you had not been careful, and now you were bleeding. A lot. Dank farrik. In your defense, he had warned you that you were gonna cut your hand, and that was not what happened. You had tripped going up the ramp and accidentally skewered your thigh. Which, when worded that way, was ten thousand times worse. It was a good thing you hadn’t hit an artery because you would’ve bled to death before calling Din to let him know you were dying from an injury born of your own stupidity. 
“This is fine. I’m fine. No problem.” You mumbled to yourself as you wrapped your thigh with some padded gauze. You refused to use bacta on this. The thought of wasting the expensive and important medication on this injury only added guilt to your shame. “Everything is okay.” It looked good now all covered up and out of sight. Your pants were absolutely ruined with a hole in the thigh and blood that stained the entire length of your left leg, but it was fine. “I’m fine.”
If you repeated the word ‘fine’ enough times then it was bound to come true. Science.
You pushed off the cot to stand and nearly crumpled under the weight. Pain, hot and unbearable, rocketed from your hip down to your toes. Your entire left leg was angry and screaming at you. With a sharp breath, you forced yourself to walk and get a new pair of pants. Your communicator chirped a message that Din was on his way back with Grogu and that put a whole new level of panic on the situation. Getting your clothing situated, you chose to stand rather than sit. There was a solid chance if you sat down right now you wouldn’t be able to get back up.
Five minutes passed when Din came around the side of the ship to stand at the end of the ramp. Grogu was playing with an unfamiliar toy in the satchel by his side. The Mandalorian must have caved and bought the kid a new toy again.
“Hey,” Din called out without coming closer, “Are you done with the wiring?”
You had stayed behind to repair some loose wiring. Your sole job on the ship was to keep the damn thing in the air, and Maker did the Razor Crest fight you at every step. You nodded. “Yes. Yupp. All good.”
“Come with me.” Din motioned for you to follow after him. “I want to show you something in the town.”
You let out a quiet whimper as he slid out of view, and with a steadying breath you marched out with the most normal gait you could manage. Honestly, you were impressed with yourself. You’d be more impressed if you hadn’t stabbed yourself in the first place, but considering your situation you’d claim this victory. The town wasn’t far from where Din parked the ship and it was a small, but colorful village nestled in the wilds of Naboo. Somehow the fact that you injured yourself while the three of you were parked on one of the most relaxing and safe worlds out there only made your pride sting that much more. 
There was sweat beading on your forehead that you had to wipe away and your leg was burning in white, hot agony. Din continued to glance your way, you could feel his gaze, until he finally spoke. “You’re awfully quiet today, tranyc’ika.”
“Just… thinking.” You replied. It was a Maker damned miracle your words didn’t fall out with a whimper. Only a few paces ahead was a little shop that sold caf. Tables and chairs littered the outside patio and the second you and Din began to pass them, you drifted to take a seat. “Hey, how⏤ how about some caf, yeah?”
Din paused and just stared at you. You licked your lips and focused on taking slow breaths through your nose. Finally, Din shifted so he faced you dead on and his hands went to his hips. As if recognizing Din’s ‘lecture stance’, Grogu stopped playing to pay attention to what was happening.
“Walk to me.” He near demanded it.
“That’s a weird request.” You replied and made no move to stand. Din tilted his head at you. Dank farrik. Hands on hip and the head tilt. You were royally fucked. “Yeah, alright. Here I come.”
Just as you had guessed in the ship, the act of sitting down had ruined you. If your slow and shaky rise from the chair didn’t give you away, you took three steps before your left leg gave out on you completely. Before you could hit the ground, strong arms caught you with ease and you looked up to meet Din’s dark t-shaped visor.
“What did you kriffing do?”
“I, uh,” You offered him a sheepish smile, “I, maybe, stabbed myself. A little.”
You had gotten pretty good at reading Din’s body language which was why it was too easy to notice how his entire body stiffened. Without a word, he scooped you up into his arms, bridal style, and began to carry you back toward the ship. Grogu crawled up his dad’s side and found a home on your abdomen where he babbled at you in worry. The babbles were a fantastic distraction from the rage that seemed to waft off Din. When he got back into the cargo hold he carefully set you down after Grogu hopped off. His hands went back to his hip and you could only imagine he was glaring down at you through his visor. 
“Pants off. Now.” He snapped.
You had always dreamed of him saying that to you, but it always had a very different context than your current reality. With a pained sigh, you undid your belt then carefully shimmied out of your pants before leaning back on the metal crate behind you for balance. Din ripped his gloves off, tossing them down in a fit, but when his hands found your thigh his touch was soft and careful. 
Din peeled away the gauze you had applied and you realized you had nearly bled through more than half of the padding you had put down. The sound of a hiss escaped Din’s helmet when he saw your wound and you couldn’t help but wince as well. 
“Don’t move.” He said. Din’s voice left no room for argument as he drifted away. He returned with the first aid kit and you watched him pull out the bacta. You opened your mouth to argue, but the second a sound squeaked out of you his head snapped up to meet your eyes. You didn’t have to guess if he was glaring this time. You could feel the heat of it cutting through the visor and into your soul.
Moments after he applied the bacta, relief began to seep into your thigh. You couldn’t hold back the soft sigh that tumbled from your lips. Din carefully reapplied a new bandage once he was appeased with the amount of bacta he spread around and into the wound. You had hoped when he was finished he would just walk away and leave you to your misery, but you always had been a dumb, blind optimist and the galaxy loved to disappoint you.
Din set his hands on either side of you, knuckles white with how hard he gripped the edge of the crate, and he shook his head. “What happened?”
“I… I tripped. Fell on my knife.”
He sighed, “Are you out of your kriffing mind?”
“No.” You replied. “It’s not like I did it on purpose! I’m negligent, not insane.”
“You tripped, fell on your knife, stabbed yourself in the thigh, and then hid it from me?” Din’s voice grew louder with each event. His words pushing out in what was basically a growl.
You twisted your lips before nodding once. “That is an accurate description of events, yes.”
“Why⏤”
“Because Din!” You interrupted him. “First off, it’s the dumbest injury a person could possibly sustain so of course I didn’t tell you! Forget the karking wound, I nearly died of embarrassment.” You huffed a sigh and shook your head. “And, secondly, I’m so tired of feeling like a burden. You’re always there, taking care of me, and I just… I don’t want to be so dependent on you all the time.”
Din leaned in and you were surprised when he rested his head against your chest. Instinctively, your hands raised to wrap around his helmet, elbows resting on his shoulders. “Gar draar suvarir, tranyc’ika.” He mumbled and you only recognized your nickname. Din lightly shook his head against you. “I want to take care of you. I need to.”
“Why, Din? Why⏤”
“I don’t⏤” Din cut himself off with a grumble. Slowly, he lifted his head back up and your hands fell to his shoulders. “I’ve never been good at expressing myself with⏤ with words. But, I can take care of you. I can show you.”
“Oh.” You replied. Was he…? Did he…? You wondered if this was an admission or if your own feelings for him were biasing your thoughts. 
“So will you please, for the love the Maker, just let me take care of you?” Din breathed out.
You nodded. “Okay.”
Din’s body slumped with relief and he caught you off guard by pushing off the crate and pulling you into his arms for an embrace. His arms around you were tight⏤ as if desperate for the touch. When you leaned your weight into him, letting him hold you up, you heard him let out a soft sigh. One of his bare hands traced up your spine and cupped the back of your neck. Feeling the warmth of his hand press against your bare skin made your eyes flutter close.
“It’s a common mistake.” Din said quietly. It took you a moment to pull yourself out of the haze of bliss you had been lost in to hum out a reply. “I tripped and fell on my blade once.” 
Your lips pulled up into a smile. “Wait, really?”
“Yes, tranyc’ika.” Din replied. He chuckled. “Granted, it happened when I was seven.”
“Okay, touching moment of comfort, officially over.”
A laugh bubbled out from Din’s helmet, the sound comparable to a fresh breeze with the exhilaration it brought you. He pulled away from you, but left his hand on the back of your neck. Din quickly leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours for a few seconds, before his hand fell away an the moment truly ended. You stared at him as he collected the first aid kit to put away. Before he could leave, your hand shot out to grasp his wrist.
"I..." You paused. "I think I'm better with words. And I, I just want you to know that you're so important to me, Din."
"I know." Din nodded. He flipped his hand over so he could squeeze your hand, and it brought a smile back to your face. "Now put your pants back on. Your stab wound interrupted our date."
"Wait, our what??"
mando'a translations:
Gar draar suvarir: You don't (never) understand.
tranyc’ika: sunshine (sunny one)
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seleneisrising · 6 months
Text
Throughout Ahsoka Sabine is absolutely burying her feelings. Unlike in Rebels, this time, everyone else knows why, but no one talks to her about it.
She blows off the memorial ceremony, and she’s flippant with Ryder about it. Sabine isn’t subtle about who was missing from the event though she doesn’t say his name. Then Ryder strongly advises her to listen to Ahsoka’s information, but he doesn’t specifically say it’s about Ezra either.
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Hera knows that Sabine would help Ahsoka for Ezra’s sake alone, and that’s why Ahsoka leads with finding Ezra with the map in order to get Sabine to talk to her. But they never talk about Ezra. Sabine coolly brings Ezra up with, “So you think he’s still out there?” And Ahsoka doesn’t commit and changes the subject. They dance around the Ezra issue.
Sabine says she’s stagnating in her training because she’s just “never been good” at all the other stuff. The feelings, emotions, training the mind as well as the body. She gives herself an out, blames her low Force-sensitivity, wants to skip past that part of the training so that she can continue to avoid her real issue.
And they never get to it. Never deal with it.
When Ahsoka gets close to broaching the subject with her just before everything goes south on Seatos, Sabine still never admits to it, giving Ahsoka non-answers and half-truths before time runs out.
So Baylan uses that, Sabine’s feelings about Ezra, to get what he wants from her. And even then, when Sabine knows that Baylan is reading her mind/thoughts/emotions, she denies it. Making that deal with Baylan is as close as she’s gotten to admitting what has driven her, kept her going, for years.
Ahsoka knows there were unresolved emotional issues with Sabine (about Ezra) when she tells Huyang that there wasn’t enough time to prepare Sabine to make the right choice with the map.
But that’s funny, though, because Ahsoka had time. She knew, way back when she said, “This isn’t just about finding Ezra,” that for Sabine, it always was, even though Sabine denied it then, too.
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So that, along with Ahsoka’s hip pop and labored sigh at finding Ezra’s hologram and the way she says “I know how much Ezra means to you” and “regardless of our personal feelings” means that Huyang merely confirms for Ahsoka what she already knew: Sabine’s feelings about Ezra - the ones EVERYONE knows about, the ones Sabine has never spoken of and thought she was hiding - were always going to make that choice for her.
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So you might say that all along Ahsoka was avoiding the Ezra issue just as hard as Sabine was because Ahsoka knew how that conversation was going to go. Huyang and Ahsoka agree that Sabine was never going to let Ezra go. She is meant to be with Ezra.
Unfortunately, Sabine doesn’t seem to be aware of how strong her feelings are even though everyone else does because We Don’t Talk About Ezra.
Sabine tells Baylan she avoids reflection in general. Then Thrawn knows immediately the gravity of Sabine’s choice to go to Peridea, and he minces no words when he accuses her with the truth. But Sabine charges forward with Thrawn, wanting to give little to no thought to how and why they all got there.
Avoid, avoid, avoid.
These are NOT Sabine’s feelings about her Mandalorian family that she’s avoiding. From episode one, we have been told that all of this is about Ezra.
So I keep thinking about this moment in Far, Far Away where Sabine shows the slightest crack in her armor when she yells at her howler.
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A breakdown is coming. An epic breakdown and realization and admission of feelings that’s been a decade in the making. It has to be. Because you know who could always get Sabine to admit to stuff she was bottling up?
Oh, yeah.
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And Ezra? Well, he already knows something is up.
So I’m excited for this next episode. Ezra is back in Sabine’s life. The bad guys are on the way, and so is Ahsoka. Things are coming to a head for everyone but specifically for Sabine. Just like they did in Trials. Just like in Heroes. One way or another, Sabine is going to have to face everything she’s been running from, and hopefully, it’s going to finally be the one thing that got us here: Sabine’s feelings about Ezra.
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corazondebeskar-reads · 2 months
Text
stuck in a lonely loop
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soft!Din Djarin x f!reader
Febuwhump 2024 Day 7 - suffering in silence | Febuwhump masterlist
words: 2.1k
summary: Din can't let go of the feeling that something's wrong, even if you deny it.
warnings: pre-relationship/catching feelings stage, depression, depressive episode, tiny injury and mention of blood, vague mention of self-harm thoughts, hurt/comfort, this is just 2k of din djarin being worried about you, reader can be lifted by din but also i think he can lift literally anyone so take that as you will
dividers by @saradika-graphics
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He notices.
Of course he does. He notices everything. You’re not sure why you thought you wouldn’t count.
Well. That’s not true. You thought you wouldn’t count because why would you? Why would he notice you? The Mandalorian was a busy man…dalorian with his life and his ship and his bounties to worry after.
Not you. Not some girl from the scrap yard who he bought parts from once in a while.
Oh, but he does. And he’s the only one who does.
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The first time, he brushes the thought aside. Everyone has off days. You’re quieter; the world around you made a little duller. Your blouse is wrinkled, but your hair is neatly tucked into a scarf. You smile, still, even if it falls short of your eyes.
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The second time, he knows something is wrong. You aren’t tinkering behind the counter. It’s not necessarily unusual, as you have a whole back storage room and scrap yard to disappear into, but you don’t holler out when he rings the bell. 
Instead, he hears you call “coming” from the back room, voice dragging like a quarry across the market square, followed by silence before the screech of your stool against the stone floor. 
You’re moving slow, like you’re floating through bacta to get there. You don’t mean to make him wait, it’s just that every movement lately takes so much effort. Your body is drawn to the molten core of the planet, aching to lay against the dirt and let it draw you down. 
The Mandalorian is looking for a valve and coolant coil, of which you have plenty, but for his old ship? You’ll have to dig through four bins of valves to find one with a big enough seal. 
You sigh quietly and lean against the counter for a moment, palms splayed on the dusty top. “I’ll go out back for a coil. Valves are in there,” you jerk your thumb to the back room.
You never let anyone go in there. It’s organized the way you like and full of small, easily stealable parts. But you just… don’t give a kriff. You could not care fucking less. So what if he pockets extra bolts? You’d rather he just take all the valves rather than cope with the effort. 
There’s a spark, barely a flicker, that urges you to care. But it’s snuffed in the same ice that runs through the rest of you. It hurt, at first, but now you’re just numb. A cavern where a person once was. Everything passes through you now. People, thoughts, wants, needs, troubles. Everything steps into the void and steps out on the other side unnoticed.
It doesn’t take you long to find the coil. You had actually started a pile for parts compatible with the ST-70. He came in every few months, after all. She was a beautiful ship, but so very old, and his mechanic’s suppliers were unreliable. 
It wasn’t something you regularly did for customers, but it wasn’t unheard of, either, so you tried not to think about it too much. The excitement you felt when you found a part was purely enthusiasm for your job. 
You’re not feeling it much today, only grateful that by having a dedicated pile near the shop, you were spared from walking out to the back of the yard where the coils lived. 
You’re quiet as he settles up, a neat stack of credits on the counter. You nod when he thanks you, but as he turns to leave, he pauses. 
“Are you okay?” he says.
You blink at him once, twice, heavy and slow, brows furrowed. “Yeah?” 
“It’s just—okay,” he says, and you don’t see him again until he needs a new capacitor and a handful of replacement switches. 
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But the shop is closed. He stands dumbfounded for a moment at the door. There’s not a sign or any notice posted. It’s early afternoon on a busy shopping day.
Maybe you’re on vacation, he thinks. You deserve one. It's doubtful, though.
He stands there, looking up at the dark windows of your apartment above the building, long enough to apparently draw attention to himself. 
“She ain’t open,” says your neighbor, who runs a salon from their main floor. Your buildings are conjoined, not quite butted up to each other but with roof panels that stretch across the small gap. She’s smoking in the tiny alley between them.
“Okay,” he says, but finds himself standing in place still. “Do you know when she’ll be open?”
“Nah. Haven’t seen her around much. Been keepin’ to herself up there.” She jerks her head up. 
But when he looks at her, about to ask a question he shouldn’t, she’s watching him through narrowed eyes.
“Is there another scrapyard around?” He doesn’t remember there being more than one in the city.
“Other side of the flats,” she says with a shrug. “Is it an emergency?”
Yes. No. He doesn’t know. The capacitor is important but not emergent. It’s his unwillingness to walk away that feels urgent. 
He thinks about how smudged you were last time, how you seemed to pull on the air around you like a blanket. Like you wanted to be smaller, to be invisible.
But he saw you. 
“Yes,” he says. 
Your neighbor appraises him. He’s not sure what she sees, but she jerks her head down the alley, and he follows.
There’s a set of stairs carved into the back of the building, outside the gates of the scrap yard and right up to your apartment. She climbs them two at a time and raps her knuckles against the door.
“Honey, you got a customer with an emergency. Think he’s one of your regulars,” she calls. 
There’s nothing for a moment. She shrugs and heads back down the stairs. 
He doesn’t follow, and she doesn’t ask him to.
When the door slides open, you’re still wrangling your matted hair. An oversized tunic droops from your shoulder, just the hint of soft sleep shorts peeking from the dip on the side. You look as if you’ve just woken from the first taste of sleep in months, unrest lurking in the shadows of your slouching frame. 
“Hana, if it’s an emergency, just send them—oh,” you say. “Mando. I’m sorry; I hope I didn’t hold you up.” 
“You didn’t,” he reassures. “I was going to go, but she—”
“She what? Did she say something about me?” you’re stiff, suddenly, face drawn tight.
“No, just asked if it was an emergency. I thought maybe you had asked her to let you know if someone came by. I don’t mean to disturb you.” 
You sigh. “It’s fine. Samshi isn’t going to have what you need, anyway.” You hesitate a moment. “C’mon through this way, I don’t want to go ‘round the front.”
As soon as the door shuts behind him, you grimace. “It’s uh. It’s a mess, sorry.” 
It’s an understatement. The flat is dark, dust mites glimmering where the light dares to touch. There’s a nest of blankets on the sofa and detritus scattered in an arc around it. Empty cups, plates too full to have been more than picked at, rolled-up socks kicked off one arm, and a discarded bra teetering precariously on the edge of a takeout box. 
The scanners in his visor don’t detect a fever or any distressed vitals, but it’s clear that something is very wrong. For a scrap yard, you run a neat operation. It’s not meticulous, but it’s never dirty in the shop, and he’s only seen you less than tidy yourself the once. 
You try not to look around and see what he sees as you cross the room and open the door that leads down to the shop. You also won’t look him in the eye while you ask what he’s looking for.
He follows you out back, even though he usually stays put. Doesn’t encroach on your space. He’s seen the way you tense up when others do, so he’s always left you be.
But that undeniable feeling of wrong doesn’t go away, so he follows. 
You rifle around in the pile outside before he realizes what it is. 
“Are those all parts for the Crest?”
You would have been embarrassed, you think, but the thought slips away. You just don’t fucking care. You shrug. “Yeah.” 
You hand him the parts, switches and all, and head back inside. You’re a few steps ahead when he notices.
“You’re bleeding,” he says abruptly, a hand on your shoulder.
You stare at it for a moment. He’s never touched you. 
“Are you okay?” he says. 
You can tell he must be repeating it, that you hadn’t heard the first or second time. 
“Yeah,” you shrug, displacing his hand on accident. “It’s probably nothing. I stepped on something out there.”
You’re on the counter before either of you really realize what he’s done, his broad hands around your waist before they’re grasping at your leg to examine your bare foot. 
“Where’s your medpac?” he says.
“It’s fine,” you wave a hand at him. “Barely felt it.” 
If you thought that would reassure him, you’re wrong. There’s a screw, albeit a small one, in your heel. 
He cups your jaw gently in one hand, urging you to look up at him. “What’s going on? Are you sick?” 
You look at him for only a moment before your eyes flick away. You bring your leg up between you, folded over the other so you can peer at your foot. Your nails pick at the screw idly until they get a grip and pull. 
You gasp, and he swears. 
“Where is your medpac?” 
“Under the counter,” you say. What had been a few drops of blood is now a steady trickle down your foot and you can’t deny it needs attention, now. Well. You could, and you’d like to; you’d like to crawl back up to your pathetic blanket pile and sleep. 
You don’t think he’ll let you without an argument, and it seems like a lot of effort and a lot of scrutiny that you can’t be fucked to endure. 
“I can take care of it,” you try when he comes back around, splaying the pac open to rifle through. 
He somehow, despite being featureless, fixes you with such a withering, doubtful glare, that you resign yourself to his ministrations. 
The antiseptic spray stings, and you hiss, drawing a murmured apology from the Mandalorian. You grimace and blow him off, but the truth is, you found you liked it. It was maybe the first time you’ve felt anything in months other than the sharp bite of jet juice. 
It’s a more dangerous line of thought than you should indulge in, and it’s a relief to recognize that you’re cognizant enough to see the signs. It doesn’t make it any less true, though.
You’ve zoned out enough that you haven’t noticed, but Mando’s finished bandaging your foot and is watching you with palpable concern.
“Do you have someone who can look after you, help you out?”
“It’s a tiny puncture, I’ll live,” you say.
“That’s not what I was talking about.”
“Then I don’t know what you‘re talking about.”
“Whatever it is that’s wrong, whatever it is that’s drained the light from you,” he says softly. He’s leaning on his fists, settled on either side of you on the counter, bringing him closer than he’s ever been before. 
“I’m—”
“Don’t,” he warns. “You don’t have to tell me; it doesn’t have to be me you talk to. But don’t lie to me.” 
You try to look away, but he’s in all your peripherals and blind spots now, too. You’re surrounded by his broad body, surprised by the heat he throws despite the beskar, and somehow, the smell of oil and iron and nutmeg and musk embraces you. 
“It is nothing,” you say. “It’s just a thing that happens. Sometimes, I’m just… empty like this.” You’re not sure why you’re telling him. You think it should scare you.
He shifts his weight and brings his gloved hand back up to your face, the motion slow and exaggerated. You don’t run from it, though.
“You don’t have to be alone. It doesn’t matter if you’re used to it.”
For the first time in months, you cry. You expect him to flinch away when the tears spring up, something rotten and bloated from dragging yourself through the mire has burst at his simple kindness, but he gathers up the raw edges of you and holds you together against the cold cuirass of his armor. It’s soothing against your overheated cheek.
He holds your head there steadily, not letting you breathe a word of an apology. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “We’ll get you through this.” 
And you believe him. 
*title from "So Much (for) Stardust" by Fall Out Boy
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forthetears · 1 year
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give in  ||  dindjarin x reader
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Summary:  You are a princess who's father hired the Mandalorian to take you across the galaxy. He's just trying to do his job but you have some other ideas for his company. Grogu doesn't exist, sorry. No use of y/n.
Warnings: teasing/tempting, (m)masturbation, almost voyeurism, smut, p in v, mando nervous about fucking a princess, sort of rough, unprotected, creampie, 18+MDNI
WC: 3.5k
A/n: still working on my porn to plot ratio, majority just horny scenarios and smut, all which was written while going through death like medication withdrawals so be patient w the run on sentences ;)
[Masterlist]  [If you’d rather read on Ao3 here’s the link]  
-
Mando knew you were trouble from before he even took the job. He could see it in your eyes as you stood beside your father’s throne, almost a smirk on your lips when he reluctantly agreed to the deal. He was hired to bring you to Coruscant, where you were to be married off to a wealthy prince chosen by your father. This wasn’t the kind of work he was used to and normally would never have agreed to taxi a princess, but your father was adamant on you needing his protection. Mando and your father had known each other for a while and had many successful business deals, so who better for the job than a Mandalorian he can already trust. When he threw in the beskar for payment, how could Mando say no. 
He had met you a handful of years ago, just once, but all he really recalled was that you were young and shy. It was obvious to Mando you weren’t a kid anymore, the way you grew into your body, how your dress gripped your curves, a blind man could probably even sense your beauty. He had caught himself staring when he first saw you, grateful his helmet could hide his gaze, he knew he couldn’t think of you like that. Even just thinking about you that way could cost him the job if your father found out, he just prayed the trip would be over fast and that hopefully you were still shy enough to keep your distance. 
-
He learned almost immediately you had grown out of that too, springing questions on him about his Creed, armor, if he’d killed anyone. 
“We don’t need to know each other, just need to keep you safe, why don’t you go sleep in the cabin, I’m about to make the jump to hyperspace,”
You shrugged him off and went down, a little hurt at his eagerness to reject all pleasantry. It was your first time off planet, away from the eyes of your father, you would’ve assumed this was freedom if it weren’t for the arranged marriage waiting across the galaxy. But at least the journey was long, a few days at least, and as far as you checked you were a free woman until then. 
Mando had soon fallen asleep after sending you down, the course was set in auto pilot, but he stayed in the cockpit, letting himself drift off upright in his chair.
It wasn’t until he felt delicate fingers tuck under the collar of his flight suit that awoke him from his slumber. 
“Hey! What are you doing?!” His eyes opened to find you leaned over him, quickly but gently he reached out an arm to create space between you. 
“I was just wondering if you had a pulse, if it was human skin under there,” you pulled back, half smiling because you had gotten your answer. 
“You could’ve just asked,”
“Thought we weren’t doing the whole getting to know each other thing?”
And with that you returned back to the cabin as Mando cleared his throat. He tugged on the fabric your soft hands had just breached, trying to shake the ghost of where you’d touched his neck. Feeling his blood run south, he adjusted his pants in embarrassment of what the lingering thought did to him, but instead flicked off the auto pilot and he brought his attention back to flying. 
-
A few hours had passed and he got up to stretch his legs. Down in the hull, it occurred to him you might be hungry and he quietly approached the cabin door, knocking lightly. He heard you groan and suddenly felt it was wrong for him to have woken you, a princess, but it was too late at that point so he opened the door anyway.
It was the sight of you that instantly grew his face hot underneath the beskar. He stood there, looking down at your relaxed body. You had changed into a short silk nightgown and were sleeping on your side, the cool fabric that had pooled at your waist left your ass exposed directly to him. His mind scattered and his pants tightened as his eyes carefully traced your form.
“I wondered if you were- if you needed to eat?” Mando finally got out, he could feel his own heart beat but stood perfectly still waiting for your response. 
Without opening your eyes you rolled to your other side and sighed out, “No.”
As he reached for the keypad to close the door, you brought your top leg to bend into you, spreading the Mandalorian’s view to fall on the small piece of cotton concealing your cunt. You could’ve sworn, even through your drowsiness, that you had heard a breathy gasp come from the helmet, just as the metal door clicked shut. The reaction letting a tiny smirk pass your lips before returning back to sleep. 
On the other side, Mando felt his hot breath engulfing his mask, he knew you had to have done that on purpose, fucking trouble he thought. But swiftly climbing back into the cockpit he couldn’t escape the image of you tangled in lilac silk, draped across his bed, his sheets getting to know the feeling of your bare touch. Looking once to check the lock, he then carefully placed his helmet on the passenger seat before beginning to palm himself over his pants.
He let his head lean back as he played his memory over again, slowly undoing his buckle and gripping the massive hard on you’d given him. He imagined your soft skin against his, what your face would look like if you were full of him. He stroked himself to completion, biting his lip to keep quiet as he came to the thought of getting to fuck the oh, so grown princess. 
-
The next day he waited as long as possible before returning to the hull, when he did, he found you seated at the table reading.
“Well there he is, I was starting to think you forgot I was down here,” You said when you spotted him, closing the book and leaving it on the table.
He joined you in the parallel chair, “We’re going to make a short stop on Tatooine to fuel up soon, you can eat there too if you’re hungry.”
You took in what Mando was saying but your eyes were studying his helmet, “and what about you, you going to eat with that thing on,” 
“No, I eat alone for that reason.”
You frowned, getting up and letting your robe fall to the back of the chair, the same lilac nightgown underneath. You moved to him, and placed yourself to be seated on the table directly facing him, your legs dangling between his own. His posture stiffened but you leaned toward him, running the pads of your fingertips over the smooth metal covering his face, your eyes trained on the visor, searching for the remnants of his own. 
“So all this for what then? So no one can see you?”
“Yes, this is the way.”
“When was the last time you took it off?” You asked, your fingers quietly falling to his chest plate.
Mando tensed thinking about the last time being when he had relieved himself due to your visual torture. Immediately the image of your sculpted body fell to the forefront of his mind, the memory mixing with you hovering over his lap on the table made him have to focus on controlling his breathing. 
You sighed at his stoic nature, after feeling his skin yesterday you yearned to feel more. His covered body enticed you, the question of who he was under all the armor. Though the looming reality that in a few short days, you’d be another man’s property, only irked you to want the mandalorian more, to want to choose to be with him and to know what it’s like to get to make that choice. 
Without fully thinking it through, you felt your foot move to brush the inside of his thigh and watched it make him squirm as you tried not to look into the helmet, “Do you ever take it off to…” your voice started to trail away as you gave into the urge and began spreading your legs in front of him, “...well, to fuck.”
You played with the hem of your nightgown as you felt your face redden from the silence. Finally looking back up at him, Mando placed his gloved hands on either of your legs, you swallowed and felt the arousal pooling at your core. But instead of giving in to the gesture, he pushed your legs together and got to his feet. 
Leaning in with a cold “No,” before turning back to the cockpit and speaking over his shoulder, “and put on some real clothes, we’ll be there soon.”
-
Walking into the crowded bar on Tatooine, the occupants all stopped their chatter to look up. At first, thinking it was you that held their gaze, you tugged on the hood of your cloak, thinking maybe the valuable fabric of your dress might’ve peaked out and been recognized. 
It wasn’t until you heard the bartender whisper to a customer something about Mandalore that you realized all the attention was for Mando. The looks he was getting of fear and jealousy made you wonder what they said about him, what made him so special, but still, it didn’t erase the anger you felt toward him at the moment. 
Embarrassing you like that after you asked for him to take you, maybe not with your words, but he knew what you meant. You had thought he maybe wanted it too, you were almost sure his long silent stares and the way he seemed almost flustered after waking you could’ve meant the thought had also crossed his mind. It was borderline hurtful, you questioned if maybe there was something wrong with you, I mean there couldn’t be, right? I bet anyone in here would gladly take me, you thought, and an idea came to you. 
Mando snapped his fingers in front of you and gestured for you to take a seat before walking off to approach a group at one of the tables in the back, you scoffed at him but followed the command.
“Well, to what do I owe the pleasure, Mando,” Peli looked up smiling.
“Wondering if you could take a look over the Razor Crest, refuel and make sure if it can handle the trip to Coruscant.”
“Do I even want to ask or would I be correct in guessing it has something to do with that one over there?” Peli chuckled and gestured across the room at you, “she sticks out like a sore thumb, you better watch that one.”
Mando turned around and to his surprise you sat there, already drink in hand, hood down, laughing at something a bounty hunter had said, who now sat beside you. Maker, it’s like she’s looking for trouble, he thought to himself, but turned back to Peli.
“So you can do it?”
“Enough fuel to get you to Coruscant? If you can pay upfront, sure Mando.”
“I can, I just need it done by sun down.”
“Well then, should’ve started with that, in that case I got to start now.” Peli rose to her feet and shuffled past the armored man.
“Thank you.” He spoke and pivoted toward where he’d left you seated.
Fuck. The table was now empty, and scanning the noisy room Mando realized not only were you gone, but so was the bounty hunter you were talking to. 
He bolted to the bartender, “You see a girl and some Guild man just leave here?” 
“Leave? Nah, just got a room upstairs though.” 
Mando’s jaw clenched and his hand dropped, visibly hovering at the blaster strapped to his thigh, “What number?”
-
The door slid open and Mando stopped in the doorway when he saw you. You laid across the sheets of the inn’s bed, fully bare, your chest pressed into the mattress and your hips raised into the air, the silhouette of your naked body made the blood in him shoot to his cock. That’s when he saw the filth of the bounty hunter kneeling between your legs, tugging at his belt. 
Mando raised his blaster and the noise from the door got both you and the hunters attention.
You turned your head, body still on display, “Oh hey, Mando,” and you spread your knees farther, arching your back at the sight of him.
The bounty hunter, on the other hand, froze. No longer trying to free himself, his hands slowly started to rise in surrender as Mando's finger ghosted the trigger of the blaster pointed directly at the man. 
“If you value your life, you’ll get the fuck away from her.” 
You felt the weight behind you quickly get off the bed and you watched the Guild member flee in fear out the door. Mando shut it after him and strapped his blaster back to his leg. 
“You know I was planning on using that.” You snapped at him as you dropped your hips on the bed. 
The way you laid there, propping yourself up on your elbow, making no effort to cover yourself as you watched the Mandalorian watch you back, slowly moving toward you. His eyes made no effort to hide that his gaze was trailing up and down your body.
“Princesses shouldn’t be seen like this,” he said as he approached the end of the bed, you rolling on your back to face him.
“Bold of you to insinuate I’m not allowed to have needs.”
Mando felt his cock throb at your words, he was fully erect at the sight of your goddess-like body spread out in front of him. You smirked, noticing the bulge now prominent through his clothes. 
“Or maybe it’s you who needs to give in to your own,” 
You watched his chest plate begin to rise and fall as you heard Mando’s breath deepen, you were right and he knew it. Just like earlier on the ship, you bent your knees, dragging up your legs to the side, this time revealing to him your dripping cunt. Although hidden by his helmet, his eyes widened at the sight of how needy you were to be filled, his mouth dropping open as his hand subconsciously moved to palming his hard length over the fabric.
“No, Mando, I need you to touch me.”
He closed the space between him and the bed, the want he felt to have you became a feeling of need. You looked up at him with pleading eyes as you gently bit your lower lip. He couldn’t stop himself anymore, he bent at the waist and reached out grabbing your ankles, pulling you to the edge of bed and a gasp escaped your mouth as your wet throbbing core pressed against his groin.
Your stomach dropped in excitement as Mando reached down and freed his member, just looking at his long thick cock made your pussy ache to have him fill you. You wanted him and he wanted you, and the only thing that brought him to be pressed against you was desire, not politics, not money, not favors, not like the men from your home planet.
He panted from beneath his helmet as his tip ran between your folds, causing you to whine in impatience. When he began to push into you, your mouth opened at how he stretched you, exhaling moans, your eyes rolled back into your head as he drew himself fully into you. 
Maker, she’s so beautiful, he thought. You pulled your hips back before bucking him into you again, the sound of your ass slapping against the cool metal of his thigh plates filled the air. 
“So eager young one,” He whispered as he held himself over you, slowly starting his rhythm of thrusts.
Your legs wrapped around his waist, luring him even closer to you, the bouncing of your tits hardening your nipples as they brushed up against the smooth beskar. 
“You’re so b-big, feel so good,” you moaned as you watched your reflection in his face covering, seeing your own expressions of pleasure instead of his.
Your hand reached up the back of his neck and you tried tucking your fingers beneath the metal as you heard his grunts with each plunge into you. You felt the touch of skin for only a second before he had brought his hand to yours and pinned it down beside you.
“Can’t do that, baby,” he interlocked his fingers with yours.
“Please,” you whined up to Mando’s hidden face, your eyebrows furrowing in ecstasy.
Maker, how he wished to kiss the lips in front of him, trace your curves with his tongue, learn your taste, that’s how a princess deserves it, he thought. He wanted to give it all to you, but he couldn’t and he abruptly felt unworthy to be drawing such sounds from your beautiful mouth. 
He stopped, pulling out slowly, a whimper escaping your mouth as he slipped from your entrance. 
“What- why’d you stop?” you whispered as he pulled back, standing over you, “I want this, please,” 
He wanted it too, oh, how he wanted it. You were giving yourself to him, practically begging for his cock and as much as he didn’t feel deserving of your body he craved to feel the warmth of your walls again.
He slowly crawled onto the bed and held your chin with his gloved hands, “then turn around for me,”
Before you could even process his command, he had gripped your hips and spun you, having you land on your stomach, facing the headboard. You went to turn your head and see him but you felt his hand find the back of your neck, forcing your gaze forward. 
You heard him moving in his armor but fought your instinct to look at what he could be doing, your question was soon answered when you saw the oh, so familiar helmet hit the mattress in front of you. 
“Mando?” 
Suddenly the feeling of bare hands found your hips as he lifted them into the air, kneeling between your legs on the bed. The next thing you felt you realized were lips, kissing up your spine before his arms pulled you to press your back against the cold touch of his chest plate. His mouth nibbled at your shoulder as you shut your eyes to not tempt yourself to meet his gaze. 
“Just feel me princess,” he cooed from behind your ear, “just feel me.”
You gasped as his warm cock pressed against you once more, prodding at your cunt, you arched your back and he caught on your entrance. The moan that erupted from him as he pushed his full length back into you melted in your ears, the clarity of his pleasure no longer muffled by his mask. 
He quickly picked back up his pace and began pounding into you again. Your mind was drawn blank with how deeply he stretched you from the angle. The small inn room filled with the sounds of moans, panting, and the repetitive smack of your bare ass against Mando’s armor. 
“Y-yes, oh, Mando, fuck,” you cried out as his fingers dug into the soft skin of your sides.
“So perfect baby, so fucking perfect,”
His voice, his cock, his touch, the combination of how he was taking you forced out moan after moan, as if he was hitting you deeper each time. You never would have guessed the feeling of freedom you were searching for you’d end up finding in bed with a mandalorian, though maybe you could’ve guessed after seeing how hung he was. 
You held onto the sheets around you as you felt your arousal taking over every part of your body. Then through the blur of your vision, and all his weight being railed into you, something caught your eye, and looking up you finally saw the man taking you.
Not with your own eyes, but instead the image of him reflecting perfectly in the beskar helmet tossed carelessly aside. You saw how his brown eyes were locked on your body as he fucked into you, his mouth open as he grunted with each thrust. 
You watched his head fall back as you felt his hips stutter and cock jolt inside of you. Watching the man start to reach his peak, you felt your own orgasm roll over you. Your legs went numb as your cunt uncontrollably began clenching around his length, sending him over the edge as he spilled himself into you. You desperately attempted to catch your breath through your whines, letting both your waves crash over you, he buried himself deep in your cunt as he finished. 
Laying there, the exhaustion then catching up to you, your eyes fluttered shut in satisfaction until you felt him slide from your throbbing heat. You flipped on your side, but by the time you had blinked back to reality you were met by the Mando from before, hidden again behind his helmet.
He must have seen the hint of disappointment in your face, bringing his hand to your cheek before letting himself collapse onto the bed and pulling your naked body into him. He tightened his grasp around you and your eyelids grew heavy again.
“Thank you m’lady,”
“So formal,” you teased.
-
-
-
[Masterlist]
Want another Din Djarin fic: Things Never Said
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groguspicklejar · 1 year
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The Ghosts We Find [Chapter Eleven]
Summary: Plotting your escape without the help of a Mandalorian is one challenge to face while finding out something that leaves you with more questions than answers.
Pairing: Din Djaring x fem!reader
Warnings: ANGST, soft!Din, sad!Beetle, Violence, Anxiety, mentions of Brexlee, mentions of suicide (only briefly), protective!Din, words in Mando'a, slightly feral!Din???, mentions of an arranged marriage, Cyare's dad is a dick, George being ugh, mentions of Sexual Assault, Sexual Assault Trauma (This may be triggering, so please do be warned), Plot plot plot just murdering my soul🙃
Word Count: 7.9k
A/N: Took me so damn long to finish this but we are here🥳 Thank you guys so much for the support and feedback, I really appreciate it❤️❤️❤️ and a special thank you to @secondhand-clothing for making me super aware of every single typo after that mortifying🤦🏻‍♀️ incident in the preview🤣👌🏼 Please don't be afraid to point out any more typos in the future, for I will be cringing at myself as I fix them💀 (no but jokes aside, thank you so much❤️).
Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten
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Bright light sears into your retinas when your eyelids flutter and reveal your eyes. There is a pounding in your head that won’t stop. Your hands are frigid. No, your whole body is icy. And wet. It’s hard to move your limbs because they’re so heavy.
You’re lying on something cold. You barely have enough strength to turn your head until your eyes make sense of the massive stretch of white on the ground. The whole world was spiralling on your axis. There are voices in your head. Yelling, going at each other back and forth.
You turn your head again until the side of your head that aches lies on the white ground. And it helps. The cool sensation eases the pounding. The spinning dulls your vision into a blur. But it doesn’t help with the voices.
It’s only after a minute that you realize those voices were, in fact, not in your head.
“I thought I specifically asked that no one gets hurt!” A woman yells at the top of her hoarse voice and you have an inkling suspicion that there might be steam coming out from her ears.
“What did you want me to do, sweetheart? Wait for her to come out when the Mandalorian wasn’t looking?” The man, though extremely patronising, was equally as pissed. But you recognized it all the same. “That girl wasn’t gonna come out of that fucking room if the world was fucking ending! I had to think of something!”
George was arguing with someone. You can see the two figures. One man and one woman. The blurriness of your vision doesn’t allow you to see past them and the outlines of the tall trees and their crooked branches. There are no leaves. Not in these frigid temperatures.
But you were determined to focus. And the more you did, the more you could register in your mind. The auburn shine of her hair is a stark contrast to the miles of dark blue skin. Her leather jacket reminded you of the soil on Tatooine, a light sandy brown that seems to brighten under the light of the twin suns.
She shoves George, a scowl gracing the lined tattoos on her face. “Could you have thought of something other than burning the whole place down?!”
“Hey, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.” He steps up to her face, a grim expression setting on his.  “It was either that or the Empire themselves coming here to collect what’s theirs. And I don’t think you, or this whole fucking planet wants that. Right, Marshal Vanda?”
Her name quickly sinks in your mind. And that’s when you finally see it. See her.
Zaria Vanda. A Pantoran woman whose presence you’ve grown used to in a short span of time since the Razer Crest landed here. The Marshal.
A sting pierces your heart and it feels vaguely like betrayal.
His sneer shuts her up in an instant. Even though her confidence does not waver, her silence establishes her loss in this dispute. You watch the pair. Both on opposite ends of the law, yet one of them has been dragged to the other side.
“And what about the Mandalorian?” She challenges him once more, lifting her chin. “You know he’ll stop at nothing to come after her.”
George merely laughs in her face, the howling laughter ever more patronising by the second. “I’ll let you and your gang war keep him occupied, sweetheart.”
You closed your eyes and played dead when George lifted you over his shoulder.
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It becomes easier to keep calm. You practise the little you've learned from the Mandalorian. You’ve thought of him ever since you’ve gained consciousness. You wonder if Beetle was okay, if Mando got to him in time. If you were never going to be reunited with either one of them, at the very least, they will be together and they will be fine.
Still, it does not make you any less terrified of being dragged back to Nevarro.
Staying calm can mean the difference between life and death, he once told you on Sorgan during target practice. It's never a good idea to flail around in dangerous waters. Take a deep breath and steady yourself.
Don't flail, you warn yourself. Stay calm.
And it works. To your surprise, it fucking works because you find yourself slightly less afraid than before. Even in his absence, the Mandalorian still has his hands on your shoulders, soothing you. Guiding your every move.
As long as George doesn't realize you've regained consciousness yet, he won't have any reason to worry about you trying to escape. Therefore, he's let his guard down. So you connive every possible move you can think of.
And in your tranquil state, you suddenly remember that you still have your comlink. The little device is hidden in the little space you’ve made in your sleeve –a small idea inspired by the Mandalorian’s vambrace, where he keeps an array of different weapons– because you thought that would've been the safest place to put it, in case George was too distracted by what you have in your pockets.
You might have also borrowed one of Mando’s flash charges, so that might come in handy. George took the dagger you had. That you were sure of. Unfortunately, he's not stupid.
And equally unfortunate, you don't have a blaster. Not that you can even shoot straight, but the added weight of it in your hands would've been comforting.
But the comlink was enough. The Mandalorian had explained that it comes with a tracking beacon in it, should the need arise for him to find you when you need him to. If you can get away from George long enough to switch it on, then your chances of not going back to Nevarro just might increase significantly.
Your arms sway from side to side as George trudges forward with you over his shoulder, his boots digging into the snow with each step so far up to his ankles. You try not to move too much so as to not alert him. But your gaze drifts to take in what you can to see where exactly you were and where he was taking you.
Sadly, it's mostly snow. The dark trees that stand tall look like they've sprouted from one enormous pile of flour. Large branches littered the surroundings. Some were buried by the snow, making you wish that this idiot would just trip over one–
“Shit!”
Indeed, he does because the world spins too suddenly and you land on your back. That thick layer of snow cushions your fall. There was far less pain that you expected but a considerable amount of it creates an ache in your body that would’ve been avoided if he wasn’t so clumsy.
But the blunt force from above is what knocks the wind out of you, making you whimper at the impact. George crashes onto you, nearly crushing your rib cage in the process. He groans heavily while you instinctively try to push him off.
“Oh, you’re awake?” he chuckles, lifting his chest off of you, but he’s still straddling you with a smile. “Rise and shine, Sweet Cheeks.”
Worse, now he knows that you’re awake. The nickname triggers your rage faster than you can think.
“Get off me!” You struggle from under him, hitting him, trying to tilt his weight sideways so you can try to escape.
“Easy! Hey, stop that!” He won’t get off. You panic even more because his hands are trying to restrain yours but it’s his weight that really throws you off your balance. His words add fuel to the fire, “I’m being nice here! Cut it out, you little bitch!”
Don’t flail.
Oh, but you do. Your resolve is slipping through your fingers faster than water and you hate yourself for letting him get to you so easily. For giving him– giving Brexlee that much power over you. You hate yourself because he’s lightyears away on a desolate lava planet and yet his hold on your throat is ever so present and overbearing and–
I’m trying to be nice here. His growl freezes you for a brief second and in George’s sea-green eyes, you meet the wolf-like gaze of the predator who haunts your dreams. I said stop struggling.
Please stop it. You’re scaring me. And your voice, like delicate glass shattering on the cold ground, pleads yet again– It hurts. Please– please stop–
That night comes to you in flashes. The bruises. The biting. The snarls. It was brutal. You don't think you’d wish that upon anyone. You tried to bear it through gritted teeth and silent tears and when he was done– Maker, you felt such relief when it was all over. But the relief was quickly overwhelmed by the emptiness.
Something had snapped in you that night. And then it was ripped away. Leaving pure agony and an endless nightmare that left you wondering why you hadn’t done more to make it stop. Why you hadn’t fought to keep that part of you that was stolen.
Terror seizes you, taking hold of the veins in your hands, your wrists, your arms. For a split second, you can’t move. Can’t think. Can’t breathe. And then–
Cyare.
You inhale sharply. The voice echoes and reaches deep, a hand reaches and catches yours as you fall further in the abyss. You know that voice. You love that modulated tone.
I think our companion underestimates her power, kid.
Gentle palms hold you close. His tender caress soothes the fear in your mind. His warmth seeps into you, the cold leaving your bones until all you can feel was him. Until you know that your demons can’t plague you any more. You hold on to it, as you did on Sorgan, as you did in the Razer Crest, as you did here.
Beetle’s gleeful laughter lifts that solemn grief in your chest. His affection and mischief makes you forget the sorrow you carry with you every day from the scars that constantly burden you. And every time you look into those deep brown eyes, you think he sees it. You think he instinctively knows. You think that’s why he’s always bringing you flowers and little things as offerings to make you smile and it works. It works every time.
Ner cyar'ika.
You are his darling. He said this to you. Like you were something precious and dear to him. Holding you in the same regard any Mandalorian regards their Beskar. He’s got his arm wrapped around your waist and he holds you like there was nothing in this universe that could ever tear you away from him.
I will scorch every last inch of this universe to find you, even if it’s the last thing I do.
The confession, though quietly spoken, easily frightens you. The lengths he would go to protect you, to avenge you if the need calls for it. And the need does call for it right now. The Marshal said so herself, he will stop at nothing to find you and bring you back. Which means he’s on the hunt right now.
He’ll be here. He’ll find you. You will be safe again. You are not returning to Nevarro anytime soon. Or ever.
But the next few words really make you consider the situation.
When you walk the path of the Mandalorian, you are both hunter and prey.
There is a hunter. And there's prey. Everywhere you went, you’ve always felt like the latter. Always hiding, smiling in the faces of the monsters that lurk in the shadows. Polite and pleasant so they don’t strike, so they don’t eat you alive.
Please– please stop–
You think back to that moment. When you’ve pleaded with the hunter when he caught you in his jaws. You think back to how he spared you no mercy as he took what he wanted from you. How he clamped his hand over your mouth when you kept trying to make him see reason. You think back and you look at yourself right at this moment. Scared. Helpless.
Something snaps in you right now. And rage tears its way through the seams. Screaming for safety. For peace. For justice. It wants that part of you that had been ripped away so callously. It is the Mandalorian’s voice which rises above yours, his conviction overshadowing your fears. The ghost of his touch breathing life into you, reinforcing the cracks in your bones.
The feeling in your hands returns. You can move them. Your vision sharpens and you’re face to face with George once more in the present. And when you see his smile, the glee in his eyes, you’re struck with an overwhelming urge to just wipe it all off.
You inhale another deep breath.
No.
You refuse to be prey.
You screech, violently struggling and fighting through gritted teeth. That deeply rooted and sedated rage suddenly springs to life and fights for you.
Years of bitter resentment towards your father for trying to barter you off as an ornament. Years of Brexlee treating you like you were last place in his life. Years of being forced into isolation by both, where you had to leave your mother and uncle, your entire life on Naboo, only to land in another prison on Nevarro after narrowly escaping your father's golden cage of a palace.
All of it erupts like the lava on the volcanoes of Mustafar, scorching everything in your path. George is so taken off guard that it shows on his face. He hisses when your nail nicks his cheek, a thin trail of blood follows. “I said get the fuck off me!” 
He draws away from you with a noise of frustration and you can finally breathe when he’s off you. You quickly sit up and crawl backwards away from him.
“Stop being so hostile, sweetheart. I’m only tryna help ya.” He’s holding his face, examining the blood that trickles out of the wound you caused. You sincerely hope it gets infected.
Though you had a sinking suspicion that he only said that as an excuse to touch you. He has always had a thing for you, since you know he and his friends have a nasty habit of passing their women around each other. Brexlee, at some point, had even tried to convince you into having an orgy with them one time and it was one of the few times where you really dug your feet and vehemently refused. You think that’s part of the reason why George was always trying to find excuses to drag you to his bed, especially that time he tried to get you to ‘repay’ Brexlee’s debt.
Assholes. All of them.
You shove him, crawling back away and getting out from underneath him. “I don’t need your help.”
You hope your scowl burns a hole through his head. The karking creep. Disturbing your peace. Chasing you across the galaxy. Taking you away from Beetle, from Mando. You hate him. You hate him. You hate him–
“Oh, I think you do.” He stands up and runs a hand through his hair to brush the snow away. “You have no idea how crazy the Mandalorian is.”
Only for you, his voice echoed softly in your mind.
Maker, you miss him. You miss his voice. You miss his hands. You miss his hair. You miss Beetle. It’s been Maker knows how long since you saw them, but you want to embrace both of them so badly. You found a home in them and you want to return to it. If you never get to see them again, you’re not sure how you’re ever going to function as a person again.
“Did you know he beat the shit out of me after he saw us talking that one time?” George laments when you don’t answer him, which shocks you.
You’re quiet for a moment, blinking rapidly at the revelation. “You mean when he saw you pointing a blaster at me?”
You remember that moment vividly. The peril you were in. The ill intent in George’s eyes was not entirely dissimilar to what you are dealing with right at this second. Had the Mandalorian not stepped in that moment, you fear that you wouldn’t have made it out of that planet alive.
But during that short span of time after the altercation, you hadn’t seen George or Saros. And now you’re being told that the Mandalorian had something to do with it. Defending you from the shadows. Protecting you when you didn’t know you needed it.
It suddenly occurs to you that Mando had cared about you far more than you thought because he has shown you kindness, even when you weren’t looking. He really wasn’t kidding when he said he’d kill for you. His words hold more weight now more than ever.
“Mando ain’t the saint you think he is.” your captor speaks grimly.
“Oh, and you are?” you countered, raising an eyebrow, despite your bound hands trembling. Hopefully, George will chalk that up to the cold, instead of the fear bubbling up your spine.
So far, you’ve done well to mask your fear with the wrath that had been long stored away. You learned to do it a long time ago, whenever your father threatened to lock you in a storage closet for misbehaving or embarrassing him in front of one of his associates. You did it to Brexlee when arguments got so heated, you thought he might slap you across the face.
Hell, you’ve even done it to the Mandalorian. Back on Sorgan, all the way to Tatooine. Gave him the cold shoulder and avoided him at every turn. You’re not sure if he could tell that you were afraid of him, of how you thought he might put a blaster to your face and tell you to do exactly as he says just because he can. You’re not sure if he could see how his sudden change in tone on Sorgan had brought back the ghosts that haunted you, the ghosts you left on Nevarro, on Naboo.
 You feel guilty about it now because he handled your anger better than all the others did. He never responded to it with hostility. Rather with quiet patience and kind words that soothed that ache in your chest. Held your hands as he held your heart, with a gentle reverence that had eluded you since you left the care of your mother.
Standing before George now, your wrath seems to deter him from trying to intimidate you the way he wants to. He knows you won’t willingly do everything he wants, therefore his only focus should be getting you off his back and collecting the bounty on your head. The less trouble you bring to him now, the sooner he can get rich, the better.
Your thoughts oscillate between trying to find a way to run and trying to find a way to knock him down so you can kick him in the mouth, hoping to knock his front teeth loose and watch as he spits crimson into the blinding white snow.
“Never said that, sweetheart.” Oh, how you abhor that nickname. You’ve grown so used to Mando’s terms of endearment that sound so honest and meaningful, nothing like the condescending names you’d get from every other man who looks at you and thinks they can take what they want and get away with him without any repercussions. “But he’s got a higher kill count than me and boy toy combined, so you should’ve known better than to get on that ship with him.”
“Am I supposed to think staying on Nevarro was any better?” Your rage threatens to splinter you from within, your control slipping as your voice raises higher and higher. “With you and your friends threatening to take turns assaulting me to pay off a debt that was never mine?”
George backs away with hands raised, playing the victim, though the smirk on his face taunted you. “Hey, no need to overreact. I was just playing that one time–”
“The fuck you were!” You snapped, startling him. You couldn’t even be satisfied by that slight flinch because you were just too wounded and maddened by his evil intent. “You and Brexlee are exactly the same. You’re both so fucking selfish and entitled to think that everything is rightfully yours when it’s not!”
“Watch your tone with me, little lady.” He warns, pointing a finger at you.
“Or what?” you barked right back, stepping up to him. “Are you going to kill me?”
His silence is what you hoped for. You know he can’t kill you. His salary depends on it. And if your bounty has been giving your life hell, you reckon this is the most amount of credits he has made in his entire life. He won’t risk harming you any more than he already has if he wants the full amount.
Besides that, even as badly as Brexlee has treated you, you know that he won’t appreciate George ending your life.
“Oh, I doubt your best friend is going to like that.” you tell him, shaking your head.
“You’re damn right he’s not.” His fists clenched tightly and he takes a threatening step closer to speak in a low tone, “He can bitch and moan all he wants about how you’re gonna come back to him, without realizing that you’re a little slut who chose to spread her legs for a kriffing Mandalorian.”
You try not to react to his assumptions or the fact that Brexlee is one of the people who still think that you were kidnapped. You had assumed after what he did, he would at least get the memo that he had done something wrong and that your absence was a result of his own wrongdoings.
But you suppose that if he didn’t see the errors of his ways now, then he never will.
A wolf can only hunt. It will never question its hunger, only destined to follow its bloodlust. Never to divert from its path of destruction. Never to revisit the ghosts of the souls that he has harmed.
Somehow, it doesn’t come as a surprise to you that Brexlee thinks that you still want to be with him, no matter how much he has hurt you. He thinks that he has crippled you to the point of you never wanting to seek a life elsewhere, a life devoid of his presence or influence. Somehow, you cannot wait to see the look in his eyes when he realizes how wrong he was.
The look in George’s eyes becomes darker, his smile becoming more sinister. “But we’re not going to Nevarro.”
It’s not the cold that makes you shiver. His teeth flash and you stare down the face of a starved nexu, who looks ready to devour you. The monsters your mother used to tell you about when you were just a little girl had fur and scales and sharp teeth. Those monsters lived in the closet, in the woods, in the shadows, waiting for unsuspecting children to wander off and then they strike.
But she also warned you about the monsters that walk in the sunlight. Those ones were worse. They looked just like everyone else.
You were staring one dead in the eye right now.
Going back to Nevarro is one nightmare you’re not willing to face. Yet it’s the thought of being dragged to an unknown location that truly terrifies you. The devil you know would be a lot more preferable to the one you don’t know.
You’re almost too afraid to ask. “And why not?”
“Brexlee didn’t send me.” he announced smugly, toying with your emotions. “Your fiance did.”
The steady thrum of your heart stutters to a horrifying stop.
You’re struck with the overwhelming urge to run. As fast as you can. As far away as possible. Away from everything and everyone. You’re so perplexed by the absurdity of what he just said. Last you checked, you didn’t have a fiance.
You shake your head, a quiet denial slipping through your lips, “I don’t have a fiance.”
“Yes, you do.” he counters, his teeth still on display.
“If I did, I wouldn’t be here.” You don’t think he will care, but you still continue on either way, “I wouldn’t have come to Nevarro. I wouldn’t have taken my chances with the Mandalorian. We wouldn’t be having this conversation, George.”
He looks at you for a solid three seconds before his sudden booming laughter makes you flinch, damn near scaring the skin off your bones. He throws his head back so carelessly, as if he isn't holding the course of your life in his hands. When he calms down, he runs a hair through his blond hair again. “Well shit, Sweet Cheeks. He told me a different story.”
“What exactly did he tell you?”
Your hackles rise higher than they already have. There's no doubt in your mind that there was deception somewhere and it's being used to manipulate the bounty hunters that have been sent after you and the Mandalorian.
It would explain why the last two thought that you were abducted by him, which is not the case at all.
“That your daddy backed out on his deal.” You raise an eyebrow. “That he sent you away–”
“Sent me away…” You let out a dry laugh, your head tilting upwards.
There was hardly any wind. Mist follows your every breath and your fingers feel like fractals of ice. You try not to think about your body struggling to retain its heat through your layers of clothes. You could really use one of the heating pads right about now.
Snow lined the long dark limbs of each tree high above. It was almost as if the trees had sprouted balls of cotton, instead of their luscious green leaves. Something out of a fairytale. Perhaps you might find it in one of the books you borrowed for Beetle.
For a second, you wanted to forget everything. You wanted to pretend that George wasn’t in front of you, that you were alone in the winter wonderland. Just you and Mother Nature. Granted, she would soon claim your life if you didn’t find warmth soon, but you suppose that would be a better fate than succumbing to the sulphuric scent and boiling hot temperatures of Nevarro.
Your father never sent you away. Your mother did. That, you knew for sure. Erasing the haunted look in her tearful eyes was an impossible task you’ve been trying to achieve since you left your homeland. The audacity of that man's lies sickens you to the core. “That sick monster would never send away his only bargaining chip.”
“Whatever the deal is with you and that Imp, I don’t care.” George draws his weapon from its holster, his stark green eyes now glinting with a seriousness that wasn't there before. “It’s a shame that I couldn’t get the kid, but your reward would do me just fine.”
A cold chill runs down your spine. The possibility of being taken away from the Mandalorian is all too real and it punches you in the gut. You want to scream. You want the Mandalorian to follow your voice, to find you and take you away from here.
He jerks the blaster in your direction. “Now walk–”
“Celwick.” His comm crackles loudly through his pocket. The sound of his last name startling both of you.  “George, are you there?”
The Marshal. You almost forgot about her. You wonder why she, of all people, would side with a man like him when she has innocent people to look after. Has it been that easy to turn you over to him? What did she gain from condemning you to this?
He growls, annoyed. His comm is held near his mouth, yet he never takes his eye off you. “What?”
“Mando’s hot on your trail.” she announces and your heart flutters, eyes widening brightly.
George catches the way you barely manage to contain your shocked glee and scowls at you. He clicks his teeth, shaking his head and uttering more curses to the forest and snow as he turns his back to you. “Dank fucking Ferrick. Are you karking serious?”
The Marshal goes on to explain everything while you are temporarily left to your own devices.
You don’t know what came over you. There was a large branch, partially buried by the infinite layer of white. You have no idea what possessed you when you pulled it from the snow with the sole intent of using it to buy you time for an imperfect escape.
Your heart was pounding as you lifted it up, not even taking the time to examine it. It was sturdy enough, nearly big and heavy enough to classify as a log. Which made it perfect for what you were about to do next. Though you had to decide fast.
Head or tail. Decide now.
Tail; He can’t walk fast on one leg, let alone run. Best case scenario is you might break his kneecap and leave him here for any predators to finish him off. Worst case scenario is that you break nothing and make a futile attempt at outrunning him. Fifty-fifty chance of escape. Maybe. More or less.
Head; The head is a vulnerable spot to hit. With enough blunt-force trauma, you might just knock him out. Or better, kill him. If you knock him out, it might take him a while for him to come to and by the time that happens, you’d have already found your way back to Mando and Beetle. If you kill him, well… Same result, just one less bounty hunter to worry about.
All of these thoughts shoot through your mind almost far too fast for you to process within the second you take a deep breath. The one singular desire in your veins ringing true was the fact that no matter what happens after this, finding your way back to Mando is the only thing you have to do.
“You need to move your ass or he’s going to find you and I doubt he’s gonna let you live for taking his girl.” 
“Shit.” He shakes his head in disappointment, jaw clenching tightly. When he turns around to speak to you, you had already prepared yourself. “Sweethear–”
You whacked him on the head before he could finish the word. He falls with an instant thud on the ground, the comm link tumbling out of his fingers. The shock of what you had just done does very little to faze you as it was overpowered by a massive rush of satisfaction.
“I’ve always hated that name.” you spat down at him before taking off, not even checking to see if you might have killed him.
You hope you did.
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Ever since Din had met you, he had wished and wished and wished for a chance to have a future with you.
Just one chance. One chance to make you smile and laugh and be incandescently happy. Once chance to devote himself to you. One chance to prove himself to be better than anyone you’ve ever been with. 
And he got that chance. Maker, it was far more than he bargained for, but he held on for dear life. Nothing in this universe would’ve made him let it all go.
Not even you.
Because you drew him in since day one. 
Granted, he was still working out how to make you his for as long as you both shall live, but he got the chance. And he won’t waste it. Not when he’s had everything else taken from him at such a delicate age.
Now that he has you, it’s impossible to imagine what his life would be like without you. Din can’t even believe he once thought of leaving you on Sorgan. Yes, it was a selfless decision, but to have to go back to that solitude, that vast stretch of quiet emptiness in space as he makes one journey to the next… He can’t do it. He cannot go back to that life.
Right now, Din would do anything to swap places with you. At the very least, you’d think to go to the Razer Crest and lock yourself and the kid until he dealt with whoever took you. The two of you would be safe on the ship until he comes back.
After finding the floating pod outside, where Zan had brought it when the chaos had ensued, he didn’t waste time in making sure that the kid was secured inside it. Din set off on a warpath, determined to find you.
The Marshal had followed him, furious and frantic all at the same time. He could understand why. Backing out of a job was the last thing she needed right now. Especially after having an entire building burn down under her watch.
“Mando.” she gruffly calls out, “Mando, where the hell are you going?”
He doesn’t answer her. He can’t waste any more time than he already has with you not being within his sightline. Din has no knowledge of whether or not you’re hurt, bruised or bleeding or both. He doesn't know if George broke a bone or three to make you behave. He doesn’t know if you were begging not to be taken back, pleading with tears in your eyes and a shaky voice–
Din inhales sharply.
Maker, he doesn’t even want to envision it. He doesn’t even want to even think about the idea of you pleading with anyone for mercy. He has seen you cry far too many times when you woke up gasping for air in the middle of the night. His nightmare still haunts him right now as he trudges through the thick layer of snow on the ground, hoping that every step scorches a clear path to you.
“Mando!” she huffs angrily. “Innocent women and children have died at the hands of those thugs. Aren’t you gonna help us fix this?”
Din wishes he could. Truly, he does. His creed values family and especially children above all else and it is the reason why he is still alive to this day. So it severely pains him to have to turn away from any good person in danger, but you were a good person too and you were in danger.
“Not while she’s missing.” is the simplest answer he could give Zaria.
He expected her to keep pushing. As she should, she is the Marshal, the protector of this town. People look up to her, they come to her for safety. And with everything going to shit as it is right now, she probably feels like she’s a failure.
Din knows that feeling all too well. Like he should’ve done better, should’ve done more. The haunted look in your eyes when he found you in the Razer Crest beside a cadaver. It is still far too fresh in his mind.
The Marshal goes to stand before him, jabbing a finger against his chest plate. “You gave me your word that you would help me get rid of these thugs. Aren’t Mandalorians supposed to honour their promises?” 
Her agitation was warranted. He knows that, but he’s running out of time.
“We do.” he tells her as he brushes past her. “But we value family above all else.”
The words taste bitter as he continues to trudge through the snow. Long ago, he lost his family. Then he was saved by a Mandalorian. He tries not to think about the families that are suffering now, the ones who just lost their loved ones. Where is their Mandalorian?
A crucial part of adhering to the Resol’nare is to defend one’s self and family.
Din had done that. He defended the kid from the Empire. He swept you away from Brexlee’s clutches, and from whoever you were running from before that. And he was going to save you from George Celwik. He had made a promise to you, that he would burn down anything that stood in his path if you were to be taken from him. That is an oath he intends to keep.
But for the families that had been endangered today and to those that had lost their lives in the fire, he cannot make such promises. Not when his own is in peril. Not when you were this close to being ripped away from him again.
For a time, when Din had strayed from his covert and found himself with the likes of Ranzar Malk and his crew, there was always that distinct gnawing at the back of his mind had whispered dar’manda. With every crime he committed, every cruel act, every waking moment of his life, he grew more and more afraid that he would never see the light of Manda.
Every waking moment that you are not in his protection, every second that passes, Din thinks that he would rather live through that agony once again, rather than face the slight possibility of not seeing you again.
She follows him, determined to push all of his buttons until he gives in. “You said that this woman is a caretaker for your child. How does she matter more than the lives of the families that you are abandoning?”
Din stopped dead in his tracks.
Fury bubbles up his throat as he slowly turns around to face her. Every day, he is confronted with insults upon insults about his creed, his job, the way he dresses, what he might possibly look like underneath his helmet and everything in between. Some days, people undermine him, especially because he is a Mandalorian and how the great warriors of old are now nothing but a bunch of scurrying rats and lawless zealots scattered all across the universe.
He can handle that. More often than not, he ignores the noise because it comes from a place of ignorance, therefore it means nothing. But one thing he will not stand for is anyone undermining you or your stance in his life.
“Because she is part of my family.” he sharply declares, conviction reinforcing the tone of his words. “She is part of my clan.”
Zaria was immediately taken aback. Her entire demeanour takes a turn and she takes a step back, frightened by the sudden shift. He was grateful for her silence. He felt a bit of satisfaction when he proclaimed this. The knowledge of putting her in her place where she has overstepped simmers in the pit of his stomach.
“By creed, I value her more than any one of them.” He added, hoping that she would accept this.  “I’m sorry it has come to this. I’m sorry that it has come to choosing between her or your town…” 
Din is no stranger to making hard decisions. But between an abusive lover and an uncaring father, you were not given very ideal alternatives to begin with. So he hopes, by taking initiative, things will be easier for you.
“But I choose her. I will always choose her and the kid.” He continues to journey ahead, painstakingly aware of her disheartened gaze.
It’s strange what love makes people do. Din never thought he’d ever have to make decisions based on it. The kid changed his view on that and so did you. Still, when trying to keep you both safe, this is one of the things that don’t feel right. Even when they should.
“Mando, please–” Even when she begs, he doesn’t stop. “I’ll triple the credits!”
No amount of credits were worth your life. He wasn’t taking anything from anyone if it meant he was going to let you go. He wasn’t going to let you fend for yourself on Nevarro. Not again.
“Look, I want to help you. I really do. But I’m not abandoning her for anything.” He has made that clear since the very beginning. Din faces her, finality sinking into his voice– “I need to find her before it’s too late.”
With that, he leaves her standing alone in the cold snow. The floating pod trails closely next to him. And the hunt for you begins.
It was easy to find George’s footprints. Even easier to follow them. Hopefully, he didn’t get far.
With the thought of you being carried off into the cold, dark woods, it’s hard to fall back into the mindset of a predator. The deeper he goes into enemy territory, the more his nightmare haunts him. It also doesn’t help that the same thugs who are poisoning the town are also galavanting in this area.
Din can’t think about anything other than how you might be fairing wherever you are. He’s nearly paralysed by worry, the only thing that keeps him going is the sheer terror you might be facing with the real possibility of being taken back to Nevarro just looming so closely.
Honestly, I would’ve rather have him shoot me in the head.
You said that to him not too long ago, after Toro Calican took you as his hostage.
He tried not to let you see how shattered he was on the inside. The mere thought of it– of you not breathing, of your heart not beating… It strikes a chord so deep that he struggles to maintain a calm stature while containing the visceral need to grab you and hold you close and tell you never to utter those words ever again.
You were so content with accepting death as a better alternative than returning to Nevarro. You would’ve rather welcomed death with open arms than lived through another minute with your ex-lover. Which makes Din wonder…
What exactly did that man do to you? In the moments when Din wasn’t watching, when he couldn’t be around to protect you or guide you through the unsteady lava territories of Nevarro, how badly did you have to suffer at the hands of Brexlee Harlow?
Din doesn’t want to think that you might put a blaster to your head and end it right then and there before George gets the chance to put you inside a ship.
Are you seeking death right now? Will you welcome him with open arms?
Din prays that you’re not. Yet he has to consider. You have been at the mercy of men for almost your entire life. Through Din, you have found that life is so much more than dancing to the whims of those men and you wanted more for yourself. He has to consider the fact that you would rather take your own life than give it back to them. He is afraid that you might be too eager for death to claim you before Din does. And if it comes to that? Will he be able to go on?
He might. Only because of the child. That will be his only remaining lifeline. Everything else would have lost meaning. He will have to continue living as a hollow shell of himself. Not only would you be taking your soul to the afterlife, but an enormous piece of his heart as well. The one he effectively relinquished from the moment he met you.
The tracks were still fresh. Maker, the relief Din feels when he realizes this is immeasurable.
You couldn’t have gone far. There was still hope to find you and bring you back to the Crest before it was too late.
The baby whines in his floating pod. Din stops to gently caress his petal ear in an attempt to soothe his worry. If he could put the baby at ease, perhaps his own anxiety might be easier to bear.
“We’ll find her, kid.” he coaxes, letting the little one grab his gloved finger with a tiny claw. “Cyare is going to be reunited with us soon. I’ll make sure of it, okay?”
The kid purred as Din’s thumb tenderly skimmed his cheek. Big brown eyes slowly blinked at him, as if he understood. Din softly smiled at him, transfixed and smitten. 
The little guy had been distraught since you were taken, and wouldn’t stop crying even when Din held him to his chest. His strong wheezes and choked whimpers were unbearable to listen to. Yet Din took his time, keeping a slow pace while soothing the child with gentle pats on the back and a few reassuring words, promising that you will be reunited with them soon. At the very least, he stopped crying, which could be counted as a win, but his ears have remained drooped ever since.
Suddenly, the commlink cracked to life.
“Mando?” Din’s heart stopped. He barely inhales a stuttering breath. “Mando, you still there? Please tell me you’re still there!”
He completely forgot about the little device he gave you. He can’t believe you still have it on you. Din was sure George would’ve confiscated it.
He wasted no time responding, “I’m here, Cyare.”
He couldn’t be happier to hear the sweet sound of your voice. It’s been far too long since he last heard it and even longer since he saw you. If he doesn’t find you in the next few seconds, he feels like he’s going to lose his kriffing marbles.
“Thank the Maker!” you cried and from the way you were panting, it sounded like you were running.  If you were on the run, that must mean you found a way to escape George. “Mando, the Marshal’s in on it. Don’t trust a word she says.”
Din’s skin prickled with chills. To think that she had the nerve to try and guilt him into staying to help her save her town–
“Where are you?” Despite asking, he keeps moving. The sheer desire to find you drives his every step towards you.
“Not sure.” You hastily reply. “Somewhere in the woods. As long as I put some distance between me and George, I think I’ll be good.”
How is it that you're keeping a lighthearted tone throughout all of this? The mere mention of George boils his blood. “And where is he?”
He thinks about how he’s going to roast that piece of bantha shit alive for ever thinking it was a good idea to put his filthy hands on you. George won’t be spared any mercy this time. Din should’ve killed him when he had the chance. Things would’ve been a lot easier now if he had.
“I don’t know! I left him behind after knocking him down with a branch.”
You did what?
Din nearly pauses his pace. Pride swells in his chest and he actually smiles. “Keep the channel open. I’ll track you.”
He expected an answer. Something to let him know that you at least heard what he said. But he got nothing on your end. The eerie silence frightens him.
“Cyare?” he calls out and still, nothing. The kid whimpered softly from his cot, ears lowering repeatedly. Din's anxiety worsened. “Cyare, talk to me. What’s going on?”
The blood in his veins curdles when all he hears is blaster fire on the other end of the link.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
dividers by @saradika reblog banner by @cafekitsune
Resol’nare - The Six Actions: Wearing the armour, speaking the language, defending yourself and your family, raising your children as Mandalorians, contributing to the clan’s welfare, and rallying to the cause when called upon by the Mand’alor.
Dar’manda - a state of not being Mandalorian; not an outsider, but one who has lost their identity, and so their soul; regarded with absolute dread by most traditional-minded Mando’ade.
Manda - Heaven; the collective soul.
Masterlist
Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Twelve
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luckbealincoln · 10 months
Text
Best Kept Secret
chapter five : lunar interlude : just a man
THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!
pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader
rating : 18+ mdni
word count : 5.0k
summary : a look into din's point of view
warnings, etc. : language, sexual fantasy, masturbation
Absurd.
It’s absurd how much the job pays. Din’s not even sure he should take it at this point because it’s too good to be true. But they promised monthly payments up front and he needed a new ship, and with what this gig pays, within the year he could buy a fleet. He could do this for a few years and be set for life. 
So he catches a ship to Naboo.
And he meets with a rather obnoxious prince who loves the novelty of having a Mandalorian working for him. It’s a good thing the job’s seemingly so easy because Prince Harand is off putting enough to make him reconsider. It’s simple, act as a personal guard to his wife. In exchange he’ll receive more credits than he’ll know what to do with and a private place to reside in. All he has to do is keep her from harm and make sure she doesn’t get into trouble. 
“Is she prone to getting into trouble?” Din doesn’t try to hide the distaste in his voice at how high-and-mighty the man is acting.
“You expect me to know that?”
Pig. 
After he accepts he’s given direct permission to disregard any of her orders that would prevent him from doing his job. 
He declines the invitation to attend the wedding, to say he’s indifferent to the whole affair would be an understatement. He isn’t in any hurry to meet the woman who agreed to marry that. So Prince Harand gives him a note, he doesn’t bother reading it, he just tosses it on the vanity and he waits alone in what he is told are your chambers. 
Weddings take a while. 
So he can’t help but be curious, after all did his employer expect him to just stand in the same spot all day? So he snoops, he’s allowed to be nosy, it might help him do a better job if he can get a grasp on who you are. He spends the next two hours inspecting the room from top to bottom and much to his annoyance he learns nothing. There isn’t a single personal item here. All the clothes are seemingly unworn, there’s no clutter, nothing. If anything he feels like he knows even less about you. Shit, does he even know your name? Had the prince mentioned it? Maker, did the prince even know the name of the woman he was marrying? What a clown. Whatever, it doesn’t matter, she’s royalty and he’s the help, she probably won’t even address him. So he waits for several hours. He just stands there, eventually he considers just leaving and reporting for duty tomorrow but he can hear voices in the hall now so he stands up a bit straighter, then the door creaks open and Kodo drunkenly peers in before slamming it shut again.
Idiot. 
Is that laughter? 
He doesn’t get any time to wonder what that was about because a Twi’lek opens the door and then you walk in. And he’s frozen in place. Your eyes are on him and the room is suddenly dreadfully hot. It’s like you're under some sort of spell that pulls you towards him and he can’t breathe. Why would they put such garish makeup on such a beautiful face?
He should say something. He needs to say something. Introduce yourself you dimwit. 
He opens his mouth but before he can utter a sound you touch him. It feels like his heart has stopped. He can see you speaking but he doesn’t hear a thing, captivated by the way your mouth moves when you talk, your tongue poking out slightly to wet your lips as you graze his chest plate with your fingertips.
It’s enough to make a man want to abandon his creed and take you right there. 
This must be some kind of punishment for all of the terrible things he’s done. The gods are punishing him with this paragon of a woman that he is doomed to spend his days with but he can never have. The ringing in his ears finally clears up and he hears the first words he can actually get a grasp on that come through your perfect mouth. 
“Is this some sort of weird fetish of his?” 
Well. The ringing is back in his ears. He thinks he might just have to die in this position at this point cause it’s definitely too late to speak up, he waited too long, what the hell is the matter with him? He’s a fucking bounty hunter for gods sake, he’s fought beasts of all shapes and sizes and suddenly he’s been conquered by some woman he doesn’t even know?
Your small hand grabs the edge of the helmet and he’s finally able to snap out of it when you go to remove it. On instinct he manages to catch both your wrists in one hand. 
“Don’t.” Thank the gods the modulator covers up the way his voice cracks. You’re scolding him, you’ve poked a finger into his chest plate but he’s having a hard time paying attention because he can’t seem to take his eyes off of the way your face flushes red, and then your neck, and then your chest. 
How low does the crimson tint go?
For Makers sake snap out of it man, you’re one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy not a school boy with a crush. 
You’re staring at the Twi’lek, scowling. He has to silence his helmet to hide the laughter that bursts out as you actually manage to get him to leave just by eyeballing him.
He manages to get through the conversation with you without tearing your clothes off, although there is a close call when you hike up your skirt to remove an anklet and like some sort of repressed Victorian woman, he sees just a glimpse of your ankle and can feel blood rushing south. 
For god’s sake. At that point he just closes his eyes because this situation cannot get any worse, and then he can hear your dress hit the floor and he has never had to work so hard to keep his eyes shut. 
“...I want to hear it from you.” 
“My job is to make sure you are not harmed.” Can you hear the strain in his voice as he wills himself not to get hard? Gods he hopes not. He needs to get out of this situation fast, he’s getting ready to dismiss himself and find Kodo and tell him to take the money back, that he can’t do this but you say something that stops him dead in his tracks.
“Actually I’m good.”
He can’t stop the exasperation in his voice.
“Excuse me?” 
“Can you not hear through the helmet? I’m good. I’ve already got an ensemble of people trailing me. I don’t need another.”
You can’t be serious. 
“You’re dismissed.” 
You are. 
People don’t typically talk to him like that. They’re always too afraid. But you aren’t, you don’t seem to be frightened by him in the slightest. He was going to leave, he wanted to leave, but it’s been a long time since someone challenged him like this. 
“You don’t have the authority to dismiss me.” He snaps back. 
He likes arguing with you. He doesn’t get to argue with people. Who wants to argue with a Mandalorian? Most people don’t want to get shot by a trained killer. 
You don’t appear to be most people.
He wants to rile you up, wants to see the fire in your eyes, he’d do just about anything to be the target of your anger. 
So he teases you, until he leaves, making sure to get the last word in. He sets up a few imperceptible motion sensors just under your door knob so he can make sure he’s alerted if you decide to make a run for it. 
And then he’s alone. So he goes to where he was told his lodging would be, it’s about a twenty minute walk but he doesn’t mind, it’s secluded, cozy. The cabin reminds him a bit of the crest, just big enough to be comfortable. 
He takes a cold shower and tries not to think about his boss's wife. 
The next few weeks aren’t any easier. 
You seemingly can’t stand him and he decides it’s for the best. You should hate him, he deserves it since your husband is paying him outrageous amounts of money to follow you around all day and fantasize about all the ways he could make you hate him a little less. 
It’s hell.
Having to watch you day in and day out. Watch you wander around aimlessly, like a bird trapped in a cage. His least favorite days are when he has to attend dinners with you and your husband. The man is an ogre. And that’s why he can’t seem to leave. He thinks about it, often. Just packing up and catching the next ship off planet. But if he leaves, who's going to protect you from this creep? So he stays.
Eventually, he watches you less like it’s his job and more like it’s his religion. 
Things only get worse when one night he wakes up with a start, sitting up in bed as he hears the beeping from his gauntlet that signifies your door being opened. It’s the middle of the night. What if somebody got in? There’s no way, you have a state of the art locking system that only he and a few staff can get into, unless they have a code. What if it was just your husband? Why does that make him don his armor faster? He has no right to barge in there if it’s simply your spouse coming in to fulfill his marital duty, yet he’s in a dead sprint towards the castle the moment he’s dressed. He had fallen asleep in his flight suit with his helmet on anyway, it didn’t take him long and when he gets to your room he’s tense the moment he sees that the door is closed. Ever so slightly adjusting the audio on his helmet he discerns that the room is empty so he switches his vision so he can trail you and sure enough a set of footprints is going off in the familiar direction of the library. 
It was a relief. To know that no one had gotten in and you had simply left on your own accord but why would you be sneaking out to the library? You go to the library everyday, you should be sick of it. So he silently walks until he sees the faint light of a glowrod illuminating your face, a stack of books clutched in your arms. And he’s about to say something, you’re only a few feet ahead of him but when you turn you’re wearing such a thin nightgown, and the robe is hardly doing anything to cover you. Before he can react you’re rushing forward slamming into him. 
And now he’s facing the worst torture yet. 
Your robe fell off one of your shoulders as you dropped and now you’re sprawled out on the floor below him, your hair is down, messy from sleep, your slip of a nightgown riding up your thighs as you look up into the darkness at him. And then you fucking groaned. And all he can think about is how easy it would be to turn that fabric into confetti. 
Help her up jackass. 
He reaches down and of course you swat his hands away. You should hate him. 
He helps you back to your room and the moment he knows you aren’t going to try anything he rushes back in the direction of the library. He knows you're fuming, the least he can do is go get your books. But then he’s picking them up and looking at the titles he can’t believe how warm it is in the castle suddenly. He’s used to the heat. Wearing this many layers you build up a tolerance.
But now he’s looking at the stack of smutty romance novels you’d wanted so badly you’d snuck out to get them and he’s sweating. 
He makes it back to the cabin in half the time it usually takes him. He was in such a hurry he had completely forgotten about returning your books to you. He tosses them to the side and in an instant he’s practically throwing his armor to the ground, he only manages to get half of it off before he sprawls out on his bed, discarding his gloves haphazardly as he frees his cock from his trousers. His helmet bumping against the wall as he leans back and starts stroking himself, his palms are so clammy he doesn’t even bother spitting in his hand. 
It’s shameful how close he already is just at the sight of you on the floor like that. His hips stutter upwards into his fist as he imagines you on top of him, your thighs wrapped around his waist, hair disheveled, wearing that pretty little negligee. Maker, your skin always looks so soft, you’d feel so much better than his calloused hands. Were you gonna read those dirty books and touch yourself with those delicate little fingers of yours? 
It doesn’t take long after that before he reaches his hasty climax, cumming with a filthy groan of your name, shooting ropes up onto his stomach. 
He definitely deserves to have you hate him. 
He tries to not even look at you after that. Until one day when you’re in the library once again and it’s obvious to him that you’re pretending to read your book, your eyes dart up to glare at him every few seconds. 
You’re looking at him like bounties look at him once they’ve been caught and are plotting to attempt an escape, purely out of habit he chides you.
“Don’t”
And that’s all it takes. He actually manages to talk to you. Of course it’s easier once he imagines you as a particularly unruly bounty, to snap back at you. If you were a real bounty he’d have a hard time turning you in. 
You’d look nice in the cuffs. 
Don’t. Keep it in your pants you moron. 
He even offers to take you to the gardens, you deserve that at the very least, a few hours outside of this sweltering castle. 
Then he takes you back to your quarters and you look at him with those heart eyes and he feels like he’s going to pass out when you so eagerly make him promise to show you the gardens. 
It’s selfish. But he has to get in one last dig, he has to see that bloom of color on your skin one last time as he tells you that your book had been upside down. 
It all becomes so manageable. For a moment he thinks that the two of you might be able to handle this little antagonistic relationship that you’re beginning to build. It would be nice, to have you keeping him in check, to have reminders that you dislike him. 
But he had to go and ruin it all.
It all went wrong so fast it made his head spin. 
It all started when you were in that damned dress. You’d been the most stunning woman he’d ever seen even in the campy, over the top makeup, and the flashy unattractive dresses. But now here you were in that yellow gown and it was like he was seeing you clearly for the first time. There weren’t any flashy accessories to distract him from your face. That flawless face. 
So he was already a little off his game at that point.
And then he slipped up. He couldn’t help it, not when you were standing next to him, dressed like that. He called you little flower. That had been something just for him and like the blundering fool that he was in your presence he blurted it out without thinking. He could feel that familiar paralysis, he hated the effect you had on him. Thank the gods he had done it in Mando’a. 
But you’re you so of course you don’t drop it. And then you make it worse because you touch him. 
And then he makes things worse because he lashes out.
Then he thinks you’re hurt and he makes an ass of himself.
And lashes out again. He’s not even that mad about the droid comment he’s just overwhelmed, he’s never been this overwhelmed and this stupid fucking planet is so hot.
It keeps getting worse, he can’t shut the fuck up and finally you tell him to leave and he can’t because he wants to stay, he wants to stay and scream at you because he can’t stand how much he needs you it makes him physically ill how you haunt him day and night.
So he says no.
And the look on your face is enough to make him want to swear a new creed to make sure you never look so betrayed ever again. 
After that you should hate him. He’s glad you hate him. He’s glad you’re giving him the silent treatment, he deserves much worse. 
The first day all he can think about is apologizing. You sit in that little nook, back in your blue dresses, looking furious. He just doesn’t know what to say that won’t make this worse. 
The second day all he can think about is how he could make it up to you. He’s got a couple of ideas of things that might wipe that frown off your face. He’s obviously not going to just abandon his creed but you definitely don’t make it easy, there’s a million different things that he wants to do to you that would be rather difficult if he can’t use his mouth.
He doesn’t make any real progress on day two either and later that night ends up with his face buried in his pillow, fucking his fist. 
The third day he’s actually kind of pissed. If you two have something in common it’s how stubborn you can be and suddenly he’s mad at you, for no real reason, he supposes he’s just sick of feeling sorry. 
And then there’s that dinner. 
He wants to kill that ignorant, snooty, little man more than he’s ever wanted to kill a person. He wants to make it last, it’s been a long time since he’s killed something, he would enjoy killing Kodo.
But all that rage goes away when he catches a glimpse of your expression and it’s replaced with fear. He’s never seen you look so small and suddenly he’s terrified that you’ve lost that fire. He’ll go back and massacre Kodo right now if he truly did extinguish your flame. 
So he breaks the silence. And asks if you're okay. 
And he’s relieved when you ramble on, even though he wishes so desperately he could wipe your tears away. Of course you’d be harder than that to put out. His light is okay, and that's all that matters. 
So he leaves you your book. 
He had gotten bored and read one of them. The Smitten Paladin. It was racy but it’s what she had gone to get in the first place so why not. But that isn’t enough. Not after what you just went through, so he opens the cover and leaves his favorite color, green, written inside, it’s the least he can do. 
He goes into the next day with the intention of apologizing. Not entirely sure what for. 
Sorry your husband is a scumbag. You should leave him for me. 
Doesn’t exactly have a ring to it. 
Before he can think of what to say you come out of your room and he’s thankful for the helmet because his jaw would be on the floor. 
Maker, did you wear that just for him?
The green dress clings to the outline of your torso and it feels like he’s been punched in the gut. Actually, he’s been punched in the gut plenty of times and this is worse because your hair is down and it’s all he can do to not tangle his fingers in it and drag you back into your room. What kind of game are you trying to play with him? Dressing in that color, making yourself irresistible, what the hell is your angle? He’s cautious and slow when he greets you. He remains on edge all the way to the library.
And then you take out the fucking book. 
You can’t be serious. 
This can’t be happening. 
You can’t just do this.
You can’t just sit there in that dress. With your hair falling so exquisitely across your face, begging to be brushed behind your ear, reading porn directly in front of him.
If you’re trying to punish him it’s working. This is torture. If you used this method to interrogate him for information he would have folded immediately. He sits there for hours, sweating his ass off as you perch in that little nook of yours, it would be so easy for him to just bend you over it and lift up the skirt of that lovely little gown. Is that what you want? He’s getting dizzy. Why else would you do this and then read a fucking erotic novel in front of him? Is this some kind of test? 
Then you look at him. It’s easy to forget since he’s always wearing a helmet that you don’t know when he’s staring right at you. You glance up at him through your eyelashes and you don’t look away. He’s so hard he’s pretty sure he’s about to burst through the front of his pants. What is your goal here? Your face is turning that delicious shade of red and you haven’t so much as looked at the pages in front of you for minutes at this point.
If this is some game of chicken he isn’t going to lose. No matter how badly he wants it, he won’t lay a hand on you unless you ask him for it. Did you just squeeze your thighs together?
For god's sake, ask for it. Ask for anything he’ll fucking do it.
He can’t take it anymore. So he speaks, teases you. It’s innocent enough. 
Keep it innocent. 
So you go back and forth and it’s safe. For a moment. He manages to adjust himself in the chair so it hopefully isn’t too obvious that he’s pitching a tent severe enough to camp under. And then he can’t stop himself from asking how the book is and before he knows it you’re asking if he had to take a vow of celibacy. 
This isn’t okay.
And then you ask if he can take the armor off. 
For Makers sake you’re married.
He needs to ask about something else. Anything else.
“The book, what’s it about?” 
Yeah, let's talk about the porn again. Dumbass. 
And then you say the words that make him want to just abandon his post and quit. Get as far away from this planet as possible.
“I wasn’t really stuck on anything… I suppose I was just trying to figure out how he fits it all in there?”
Fuck. Does she know? Is she trying to be coy?
You can’t know. He hadn’t seen your eyes dart between his legs. This can’t be happening, this is so bad. Kodo would have him killed for this. So he plays his last card, that he read the book. And thankfully it actually works, you’re so distracted by the fact that he read your book that he manages to get you out of the library and back to your chambers. 
He can’t get back to his cabin fast enough.
Cold shower. Bed. That’s the order of events. Nothing else. 
But he can’t get away from you. It’s worse when he sleeps because in his dreams you are so much less confusing. 
In his dreams you join him in that cold shower and you warm him up in several different ways (and several different positions) and he can take off his helmet and look at you unfiltered. You're the leading lady of all of his dreams, since the day he met you he has never had a break from you. 
That isn’t always a good thing because he wakes up from those dreams he has to go see the real you. The one that hates him. As you should.
✩ It was already a rough morning, there is nothing as humbling as waking up to find you’ve cum in your pants like some pent up teenager. 
The morning only gets rougher when he goes to retrieve you and you aren’t there.
Fuck.
What’s the protocol for this sort of thing? He doesn’t even bother trying to figure that out because his hand is already on his blaster and he’s throwing doors open. This isn’t the time to panic, he needs to pull himself together.
And then he throws open the right door and you’re sitting there in the tub with your hand shoved between your legs, your head tilted back ever so slightly with your eyes shut tight. You’re his dream come to life and simultaneously his worst nightmare. He wants to look away. He needs to look away but he’s a goner the moment he sees your soapy chest. 
This has to be a record breakingly bad morning. 
And yet by some miracle he fixes it. Or rather, the garden fixes it. You couldn’t pay him to look away from your face. He wants you to look like this all the time, beaming, curious, truly happy. And he can’t help himself, he doesn’t deserve it, but he’s greedy and he wants to know more about you, wants to hear your voice. So he suggests the game and Maker, you play it. 
Gods, he’s weak. Why do you make him so weak?
The moment you ask for a question if you win he knows what you’ll ask. He hadn’t planned on letting you win, but you looked so content, he could just tell you but he passes on the last question. He wants you to know what it means. 
It’s selfish to ask for anything else, he shouldn’t be rewarded for this kind of behavior, but he does it anyway, and he asks for more. He asks for more days, just the two of you, and you say yes. 
And when you ask what sarad'ika means he’s sure this is where he gets what he deserves, this is where you’ll spit in his face, call him a creep, and tell him to leave. But you don’t. Instead you politely say good night to him. 
This can’t be real. There’s just no way. But there you are, each morning, in your much simpler gowns that suit you so perfectly, and you ask him to read because you don’t want him to be bored and how could he possibly say no to you. You could ask him for the moons and he’d find a way to give them to you.
But it has to end eventually. 
And it does on the fifth cycle as reality crashes in and he has to escort you to dinner with your husband. 
She’s married.
It keeps getting worse. He’s asked to leave. He can’t. He can’t just leave you in a room full of drunk men, especially these drunk men. Especially that drunk man. His mind is racing at light speed but he can’t think of a single argument for why he should stay. 
And then you look at him with those pleading eyes and his heart starts pounding out of his chest.
Maybe he could take on six battle droids.
But he doesn’t, of course. Because what if you got caught in the crossfire. You hadn’t produced an heir, you were still expendable to Prince Harand. And he has to leave you alone with him. 
It’s the longest two hours of his life. 
He wants to tune it out, to turn off any exterior sound on the helmet but he can’t because what if something happened to you? So he listens to every word.
He’s never felt so small. 
It’s a pitiful feeling. To go through your entire life being used to doing things a certain way to protect the ones you care for. And then when it comes down to the person that means the most to you you can’t do a thing.
For a man who has solved nearly all of his problems in life with a blaster, to suddenly be unable to do so? It’s pathetic. 
They could punish her if I intervene.
They could kill her. 
They could kill me.
Lock me up.
Who would protect her then? 
Maker, he hasn’t felt this crushing sensation in his chest since he had to say goodbye to the kid. He can’t breathe. 
He’s supposed to be the strong one.
Yet he has been conquered by a fucking door. 
He doesn’t even realize you're out. Or that you’ve kicked him. Or that you’re suddenly sitting between his legs. He’s too far gone. It isn’t until he feels his helmet adjust that he snaps out of it. 
Because you’re real. And you’re okay.
No thanks to him.
And he can’t stop the words that pour out of his mouth. Never in his life has he been reduced to this, afraid like this. You should be disgusted. That the Mandalorian sworn to protect you had been diminished to this. Just a man.
But you aren’t. You’re warm, and gentle, and soft, and real. 
He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you.
So he stands. And he helps you up.
He needs you to hate him again. It’s the only thing that keeps him grounded. 
So he escorts you to your chambers, and you turn to him and say those five damning words. 
“Do you wanna come in?” 
He’s weak. And he’s selfish. Don’t do this Mando.
But he isn’t a Mandalorian right now. He’s just a man. 
With you he's just Din.
So he nods.
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magpie-writes · 1 year
Text
Catching Snowflakes
Part One
Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)
Pairing: Din Djarin x Female!Reader
Wordcount: 1.6k
Summary: Din and his latest bounty crash land on an ice planet. Can you trust each other enough to survive?
Tags: Enemies to lovers. This chapter is pretty tame but things will, ahem, heat up soon. Pre-Grogu.
Author’s Note: Unbetaed, but thank you to @acrossthesestars for gently bullying me into getting back on the writing horse. Thank you also to @radiowallet for her advice about all things fic. I love you both lots.
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“Is this what you meant by bringing me in cold? Because I gotta say, there must be an easier way.”
The Mandalorian kneeling beside you in the snow responds with an irritated grunt - which is more of a response than you’ve gotten in the hours since the two of you crash landed on this icy planet. You feel a surge of triumph at getting that much of a win although, with your hands in binders, you know it’s nothing more than a hollow victory.
Still, if all you can do is needle him with your words, jabbing in between the unprotected places in his armor like the stinging sleet currently sliding down the back of your neck, you’ll take it.
Neither of you are dressed for this. Standing in the grey leggings, lavender tunic, and thin woolen coat he’d tracked you down in, you’re halfway to frostbitten already. Still, smug satisfaction curls in your belly as you take in the ice riming the bounty hunter’s normally shining beskar. Opaque white crackles over the plates of his armor like frost on a windowpane, its crystalline branches spreading further and further the longer he crouches beside the open panel of his Razor Crest. One of the engines blew hours after he captured you, forcing the ship into a tailspin he’d only just managed to pull out of before making a heavy landing into powdery drifts of snow seemingly as tall as he is.
He’s spent the time since then swearing under his breath and wrestling with various tools, neither of which has accomplished more than getting a few lights to blink on and off, and delaying the inevitable - him handing you over to the people who hired him, collecting the bounty on your head, and leaving you to your fate.
A shiver that has nothing to do with the weather runs through you at the thought.
“Dank ferrik!” The Mandalorian throws a wrench into a nearby drift and rises to his feet to, you can only assume, glare down at the offending mechanism.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Is this going to delay you collecting your reward money? That’s such a pity for you.”
The black void of his visor turns to you and it takes every stubborn bone in your body not to quail beneath that flat, empty stare. You lean against the ship instead, a look of mock sympathy on your face.
“Why don’t you wait in the ship?” The hunter extends an arm towards the still-open hatch in exaggerated “invitation,” his deep voice tight with impatience.
“And miss all the fun?” Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, all innocence. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
-
Luckily for your extremities, the Mandalorian manages to wrestle some systems online not too much later. The Crest remains grounded, navigation and comms are still down, and he doesn’t seem optimistic about the weapons system, but the atmospherics flicker back to life, filling the Crest with light and welcome heat.
For a little while, at least.
Before you’ve even finished thawing your chilled fingers over a vent, your captor powers the ship down until all that’s left are a few low lights and the barest whisper of heat. When you shoot a look at him, he shrugs one metal-clad shoulder.
“Need to conserve power.”
Raising your manacled hands, the steel as frigid as the air outside, you demand “Think you’ll still get full price if I’m missing pieces?”
You try to force down the thought that he probably would.
He shuffles his feet for a moment, uncertain, then pulls something out of a nearby crate with a sigh.
“Come here.”
You scoff and take a step backward, your hands raised in defiance. “If you think I’m getting any closer to you than I have to, you soulless, money-grubbing -“
The Mandalorian catches your hands in his gloved ones, his grasp firm but not painfully so, and shoves something smooth and metallic against your palm, making you gasp.
It’s warm.
Your fury temporarily forgotten, you almost groan at the relief as heat radiates to the tips of your fingers. You cup your hands around the polished metal blazing like a tiny sun between your skin and his gloves.
“A hand warmer?” You look up to find the Mandalorian studying your expression, his helmeted head tilted to one side, before nodding once.
“Why didn’t you get one sooner?”
“I just have the one.”
As the heat spreads between you, the ice on his gloves begins to melt, the moisture rising into the cold air as steam. If you were anywhere else, with anyone else, you’d make some flirtatious joke about it. Surprised as you still are by the kindness of his gesture, that humor surfaces despite your better instincts, and a wry smile tugs at your lips.
“Do you hold hands with all your bounties, or just the half-frozen ones?”
The Mandalorian drops your hands like he’s been burned. Only your lightning quick reflexes save the handwarmer from dropping to the floor and, caught off guard, you attempt to hand it back to him.
“Keep it.” He nearly stumbles over a crate in his rush to put more distance between you. “I’m uh, gonna go work on the ship some more.”
Before you can think of a response, he turns and walks back into the howling wind. Alone.
-
Hours later, you toss and turn on the bunk you found while exploring the confines of the ship. It’s surprisingly comfortable, if small, the mattress thin but serviceable, and the blankets thick enough to wrap yourself in. They’re cleaner than you’d worried they’d be, carrying only a faint hint of what you guess must be the Mandalorian’s scent. Worn leather, softened by what you suspect may be beeswax. The tang of metal and burn of carbon. And something subtler. Warm, almost spiced. There’s something oddly comforting about it - or would be, if it didn’t remind you of the man who was hauling you to a grisly fate.
With a sigh, you flip yourself onto your back and stare up into the darkness. Where *is* that man, anyway? If he dies out in the cold, there’s no guarantee you’ll be better off. Not with the comms down and the ship grounded. You could take your chances that there might be a settlement nearby, but you hadn’t caught any glimpses of one as the Crest was plummeting to the planet’s surface. Besides, with no winter weather gear, your odds of making it any distance before collapsing are… not great.
You’re up and moving before consciously arriving at a decision.
-
The wintry night air whips around you, lashing the warmth from the blanket clutched around your shoulders before you can brace for its icy onslaught. It’s shockingly, brutally cold. Killing cold. Your teeth are chattering by the time you make it to the Mandalorian’s side.
Snow has drifted against his broad form and icicles cling to the cowl around his neck. He’s not moving and for a moment, you wonder if he actually has frozen to death out here by himself.
Somehow, the possibility doesn’t cheer you the way you thought it would.
“Mando?”
Reaching out, you shake his shoulder hard enough to send snow tumbling down his back, nearly jumping out of your skin when he turns to look at you.
“Maker, don’t scare me like that. What are you doing out here?”
“What do you t-think?” Despite his obvious sarcasm, the Mandalorian’s voice is dull, oddly flat. “Trying to f-fix the engine.”
He tries to rise but wavers on his feet. Instinctively, you reach out, taking his weight when his numbed feet stumble. His Beskar armor is freezing to the touch. You can only imagine how cold he must be beneath all that frozen steel.
“Come on,” you urge, slipping an arm around his waist and encouraging him to lean on you as you make your way back into the moderately warmer ship. “Let’s get you warmed up.”
“You sure you wouldn’t rather leave me to f-fend for myself in the snow? Can’t say I’d b-blame you.”
You cut a glance at the bounty hunter, not sure if he’s joking.
“Oh, I considered it,” you admit breezily as you close the door behind him. Without the furious howling of the wind, the dimly lit ship falls into a hushed silence, quiet enough for you to hear the Mandalorian’s sharp bark of a laugh.
“What changed your mind?”
You shrug, not entirely sure yourself.
He stands and stares at you for a long, long moment before nodding once, murmuring a quiet thank you, and settling onto a nearby crate.
“Wait, Mando, are you going to sleep out here? In your armor?”
“That’s the plan.” He sounds tired, resigned.
“There’s not another bunk? Or…” You’re about to offer to switch places with him but stop, remembering that you’re his captive. His bounty. Why should you care where he sleeps?
“Suit yourself. Just don’t come crying to me when all your joints rust.”
“I’m not a droid.”
For the first time, there’s heat in his voice. It’s enough to make you turn, to glare at him and demand “No? Because you’re heartless enough for one. Tell me something, Mando. Do you even know what they’ll do to me? The people that hired you to bring me down? Or why they put a bounty on me in the first place?”
There’s a long, tense moment and then, “I didn’t ask.”
“Oh? And why not?”
“I never do.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “Don’t you think you should start?”
Without waiting for an answer, you turn your back and make for the small cabin. Alone.
It’s only later, when you’re on the blurred edge of sleep, that a question of your own occurs to you: what sort of bounty hunter gives up his own bed for a captive?
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lionlena · 10 months
Text
We don’t love each other (PedroPascalxreader) angst! Part IV
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Summary:  You and Pedro are: friends with benefits, for many years. Your layout is simple and clear. You don’t love each other. You’re friends on a daily basis, you take care of each other… Sometimes you sleep together. You go on dates with other men and Pedro doesn’t mind. Everything is simple until you accidentally hear Oscar say that Pedro loves you. Then you decide to tell him the truth and you ruin everything.
Warnings: angst!!! smut, mentions of sex, friends with benefits, sad, broken hearts, age difference (reader is 15 years younger than Pedro)
*
Part IV
For your meeting with Oscar, you chose a small, quiet cafe that also had tables outside. They were surrounded by thin wooden walls to give guests more privacy. It is not without reason that you chose the time when the least people came to the cafe. You felt that talking to Oscar would not be pleasant and you didn't want the presence of any nosy fans.
You arrived much earlier and started to remember the old times again. It's not that you didn't like Oscar. It's just that there's always been this little tension between you two that you've come to understand now. You remembered one such situation.
*
Pedro organized a barbecue at his place. The first season of The Mandalorian has just entered the Disney platform. He was so excited and wanted to share his joy. You weren't a Star Wars fan, but the first two episodes made you fall in love with the show.
You ran into the kitchen with a big smile to grab a few more glasses. Oscar was also inside. He was leaning back against the kitchen counter and scrolling through his phone. You opened one of the upper cupboards and stood on your toes, but still couldn't reach them. You heard a soft sigh and after a moment Oscar stood next to you.
"How much?" He asked.
"Four is enough."
You pulled away and he placed six glasses on the table. You rolled your eyes at that but left it unanswered.
"So," he began, "I heard you broke up with Rafael."
"I didn't break up. He turned out to be gay and he tried to force himself into something he didn't want to do. We became friends. I don't blame him."
"Another one for the collection," he muttered so quietly you almost missed it.
But you decided not to comment on it and asked something else.
"Don't you and Pedro have better things to talk about?"
You knew it was Pedro who told Oscar about Rafael. Because who else?
Oscar smiled and shrugged.
"You know, we like to exchange information about which chica is available?"
You shook your head.
"I remind you that you have a wife."
"And I'm very happy with that. I'm not chasing the unattainable.
You narrowed your eyes and wanted to say something, but just then a happy Pedro burst into the kitchen. He spun around you, put his hand on your hip and pecked your cheek.
"Are you having fun?”
"Sure," you replied.
Oscar winked at his friend and finally put his phone back in his pocket.
"How do you like Emily?"
Pedro rolled his eyes. He removed his hand from you but stayed close.
"She's a little rigid."
"Because she's stunned by you," moaned Oscar.
You giggled a little and grabbed a couple of glasses.
"So it was you who bring this innocent lamb to the wolf pack."
Oscar glared at you, but you were already leaving. You just threw over your shoulder:
"Pedro, bring the rest of the glasses!"
You sat down on the garden sofa across from Emily and watched her closely. You felt a pang of jealousy. Oscar really had an eye for women. You wanted to push that feeling away. Your deal with Pedro was clear. He had the right to date other women. But it hurt.
After a while, Pedro joined you and of course sat next to you, although there was more space next to Emily. You'd be lying if you said it didn't made you happy.
Pedro seemed a little sad and tense so you put your hand on his knee and squeezed it lightly. You didn't think much about that. It was natural. Just like the fact that Pedro moved even closer to you and put his arm around you.
*
You saw Oscar approaching and you sat up straight. His appearance made you laugh slightly. Really, even if you had poor eyesight, you'd recognize a star in him. When he was close enough you said:
"It's funny how you celebrities always think a cap and sunglasses are enough to make you unrecognizable. Like... your beard is enoughed."
"Nice to see you too, Y/N."
You snorted and gave him a mocking look as he took his seat.
"I heard, you quickly got back with Tyler."
So Oscar decided to go straight to the attack. You tensed up and growled.
"None of your fucking business."
He clicked his tongue and took off his cap and sunglasses.
"I didn't come to argue."
You raised your eyebrows. He had the audacity to accuse you of being with Tyler again and he said he wasn't here to argue. You wondered for a moment how he knew. Probably from Pedro, but... How did Pedro know? You thought maybe Laura had said too much as usual and you abandoned that thought. You had more important things to do. You had to get back at Oscar.
"Really? I think that's mostly what you came for. To knock me out more and remind me how much you don't like me."
Oscar was silent for a moment and watched you closely. You felt like his eyes were burning you. Finally he said:
"You know, I liked you at first, a lot. But then I found out about your deal with Pedro. And I got sick of watching my friend suffer."
Your heart clenched, and before you thought it over, you had already answered.
"I didn't know he loved me."
Oscar shook his head and looked at you as if you were someone stupid.
"Really? All those things he used to do for you. He followed you around like a puppy... Dammit, he even had your favorite shampoo in the bathroom!"
"Okay! A point for you." You sighed heavily and rubbed your temples. "I know what it looks like. I was stupid, but in my defense: Pedro is nice to any woman. Have you ever seen how he make a woman cry? " Oscar raised his eyebrows. "Except me," you gasped.
"Okay, now the point for you. He's sweet to women, but he hasn't slept with all of them."
"One point for you," you growled.
You were getting really tired of this conversation.
"What do you want from me, Oscar?"
" That you go to talk with him."
"NO."
He looked at you angrily.
"Really? After all he's done for you, you can't even give him that?"
"What? We can't be together. Pedro was clear about that, and I went back to Tyler. Besides, isn't that what you wanted? That we would stay away from each other."
"No. I wanted you to be happy. Both of you."
You didn't know if you wanted to punch him or laugh at him.
"Great, then you could talked about it, with the door closed!"
He threw his hands up and growled in frustration.
"Did you two sign some kind of aggression pact against me? You and Pedro. You both hold the same grudge. You were one who eavesdrop us. You should have left as soon as you realized he wasn't alone."
You clenched your hands into fists. Okay, he had a point, but he didn't have to throw it in your face.
"We're here for you to lecture me that eavesdropping is wrong?"
It seemed he was to make another biting remark, but eventually relented.
"Y/N, I'm really worried about him."
You felt worried for a moment, but... Who the hell did he think he was to dump it on you.
"Well, that's not my problem anymore. Pedro's been through worse things in his life and he's dealt with it. Besides, he barely spoke to me while he was filming The Last of Us, and somehow he was fine."
Oscar shifted uneasily in his seat.
"I advised him that."
You looked at him furiously. If you weren't still in a public place, you would have stood up and started clapping.
"Great! Then keep advising him, because you're doing this fucking awesome!"
He ignored your sarcasm, but you weren't going to stop.
"Also, the last time I saw a wave of videos, after his performance at the premiere, he looked great. I didn't notice him being sad."
"Y/N, you can do better. I'm an actor and I can see when others pretend. And you... Seriously? You know him. You know what he's like. Maybe this will convince you." He leaned over to you and said, "He turned down a good movie because it's going to be shot in Spain."
"And what does that have to do with me?"
"Have you seen those dogs, thrown on the road from cars, who stay where they are because they believe their owner will come back?"
"Did you just compare Pedro to a discarded puppy and me to someone who throws dogs out of cars?"
Oscar rolled his eyes.
"I'm an actor, I like metaphors."
"I think, that you like insulting people more."
"You're getting off topic."
You were really tired of talking to him.
"What do you think I should do?"
"Meet him, please. Tell him to move on like you did. He'll listen to you."
You suddenly felt sad. You looked into Oscar's brown eyes. His weren't as warm as Pedro eyes. But you always saw them as two brothers.
"You know, it's too bad you didn't want to be my friend."
"What do you mean?"
"That you knew how he felt. You knew he was suffering because he confided in you. Who was I supposed to confide in? Pedro was my best friend. He was the only one I really opened up to, but about this one thing... what I feel for him, I couldn't tell him. I know you think I'm the bad person in this story, but you know... No one is born a villain."
Oscar swallowed and cringed. This was not the reaction you expected. You expected him to make another sarcastic reply, but you heard his soft voice.
"I'm sorry, Y/N. Really."
He surprised you. You always knew Oscar was a good guy. If he wasn't like that, Pedro would never be friends with him. You sat in complete silence for a moment, then suddenly he asked:
"And how... How are you doing?"
You had to look at him to really believe he was talking to you. He looked at you with concern and you barely held back the tears welling up in your eyes.
"I miss him. More than you can imagine. But, maybe I deserved it. He suffered so many years because of me..." You took a ragged breath. "I will meet him. I will tell him what he wants to hear. That I am no longer mad at him for shouting on me. I will tell him that I understand him and that I have understood that I do not love him. And that we both have to move on.”
Oscar nodded.
"This should help."
He looked at his watch and winced.
"Sorry, but I have to get back to the set now." He stood up and to your greatest surprise, gave your arm a light squeeze. " Take care Y/N."
When he left you, you hid your face in your hands. Why did it all have to be so hard?
You were afraid of meeting Pedro, but you had to do it. Talking to Oscar made you open your eyes. Everything Pedro did for you was declaration of love, and you broke his heart. Over and over again.
*
It took you two days to pull yourself together. You finally decided to do it. You borrowed Tyler's car and arrived late at night at Pedro's apartment door.
Your heart was beating like crazy, and in your head you were still repeating the speech you had prepared. You kept saying to yourself: Pedro deserves it.
You rang the doorbell and as it opened, all the air escaped your lungs.
"Hello."
A slim, tall blonde looked at you with blue eyes. She was wearing a nightgown and a bathrobe. She was beautiful. You couldn't deny it. You even forgot where you were for a moment. You finally got your voice back.
"Is Pedro at home?"
"Yes, but he's in the shower. Call him?"
You immediately shook your head "no". You had enough and you didn't want see his half-naked body next to that blonde.
"No... I... I'm... I live in the neighborhood and... I'm looking for my cat. Yes, a cat. It's all black."
The woman looked at you sympathetically. Apparently she thought your trembling voice was the result of losing a pet.
"I'm sorry, I haven't seen your cat."
"Ok. Goodnight."
You ran back to the car without even turning around. You drove away quickly, but after only a few kilometers you pulled over to the side of the road. You started slamming your hands on the steering wheel, screaming and crying. Was that what Pedro felt every time you dated someone? Tears ran down your cheeks. You were so angry and sad. You had no right to feel jealous, but you did. A loud sob escaped your mouth.
And of course you wanted to slap Oscar. Pedro obviously didn't suffer all that much and didn't need to talk to you to move on.
"Fuck you Oscar!!! Fuck you Pedro... Fuck you all!!!"
*
So I heard you found somebody else
And at first, I thought it was a lie
I took all my things that make sounds
The rest I can do without
I don't want your body
But I hate to think about you with somebody else
Our love has gone cold
You're intertwining your soul with somebody else
Somebody Else - The 1975 (Cover) by Alice Kristiansen
*
Did Pedro really find somebody else? 🥺
Part III
Part V - ( there will be some Pedro pov)
*
Yes, Oscar is mother hen
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lincolndjarin · 5 months
Text
Best Kept Secret
chapter twenty five : wedding bells
ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧
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pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader
rating : 18+ mdni
word count : 11.7k
summary : a plan to finally leave Naboo is set in motion.
warnings, etc. : language, smut, angst, canon typical violence, allusions to sexual assault, threatened sexual assault (a guy threatens reader, and is gross), vomit (reader pukes once, it isn't described in detail), oral f!receiving, p in v, creampie, din's breeding kink, teasing, orgasm delay, probably other things i missed sorry
a/n : genuinely sorry about how long this took, it's been a pretty rough month for me and it's been hard to focus, especially when i'm also trying to keep up with kinktober, i promise in november. my upload schedule will do back to normal. i've sort of been dreading writing this chapter for a long time just because i've known how i've wanted it to go for so long and i just wanted it to be right, double apologies bc idk when the next chapter will be out because it's gonna be a double release but i will keep everyone posted. also i super rushed the edit on this so like if there's a big glaring error feel free to message me about it.
comments and reblogs are appreciated !!
Four days of Leo. 
You were upset that Din was leaving you but you got over it rather quickly with the promise of his hasty return. 
The morning he’d left you’d gone back to bed, you couldn’t think of anything to do without him so you just slept, dismissing the girls when they came to dress you. Your makeshift bed is colder than ever as you toss and turn for a few minutes before finally rising. You managed to find a dress that wouldn’t require much assistance to put on, stepping into it before leaving only to find Leodall waiting outside your door. 
“Can I help you?” You give him a perplexed look as he clears his throat. 
“I’ve been tasked with protecting you while the Mandalorian is away.” 
What the hell is Leo supposed to do if you’re in danger?
“Is this Kodo’s doing?” You fight back the frown that threatens to form on your face.
“No ma’am. The Mandalorian instructed me to keep an eye on you.” 
Bastard. 
Of course he didn’t tell you Leo was going to be watching you while he was gone, he knew you’d be livid, which you are. You know better than to fight this, Leo’s terrified of Din, he’ll do whatever he asks of him. With a sigh you begin to make your way to the library, hearing his flustered steps behind you. 
You don’t want to be stuck with him in the library all day so you simply grab a handful of books before making a hasty return to your room. Much to your chagrin, he follows you in, keeping a watchful eye on you as you read. 
He does all sorts of nonsense.
He sweeps, and dusts, and fusses. Nothing is ever clean enough for him. You tell him it’s fine dozens of times but he just won’t stop insisting. He takes the sheets off the bed to be washed despite you telling him you don’t even sleep there. 
His orange complexion goes damn near white when he discovers that you’ve been sleeping on the closet floor. You explain to him with as much patience as you can muster that nothing he can do will stop you from sleeping in there and you find a compromise where he thoroughly washes every single blanket, sheet, and pillow while you try not to scowl at him. 
And he won’t stop talking. 
He doesn’t seem to take the hint. You can sigh and groan as much as you want to when you look up over your book at him but he just keeps going. 
The only time he goes silent is when you have to attend dinner with your husband. Leo accompanies you as Din would, standing behind you as you take your seat at the dining hall table.
Kodo looks… tired? 
You’ve seen plenty of emotions on that smug face of his, but exhaustion? Never. 
“Let’s make this quick.” He doesn’t even look at you as he takes a swig of whatever’s in his mug. You don’t grace him with a verbal response, just a nod and a hum as you take a sip from your own glass, hoping the water will soothe your nerves. 
They don’t even bring out any food as he writes something down, shuffling through the papers in front of him. 
“I don’t have a lot of time today…” He finally looks up at you, there are bags under his eyes and you can’t help but wonder what’s gotten to a man who seemingly cares about nothing. “Let’s get started, shall we?” He sits up a little straighter, giving you that smile you’ve grown to hate more than anything else in this castle. “My father is ill.” 
“I’m so sorry, my prince.” Your sympathies are emotionless, you don’t remember what his father is like. If he’s anything like the rest of his relatives you’re certain you wouldn’t care for him. 
“Don’t be, this is a good thing.” Of course his father’s sickness would be a positive to him. “They’ve already transferred many of his royal duties over to me.” Hence the exhaustion. “This is a very good thing, wife. You could be queen by the end of the month.” Your stomach lurches at the thought. 
Being queen means making heirs. 
“How wonderful.” You stare at him, really taking him in for the first time in a while. Maybe it’s just because you know exactly how ugly he can be but right now you have to wonder how anyone considers him attractive. You don’t even know what Din looks like but you know that purely based on his actions that he’s more attractive to you than this. 
“I don’t have much else for you, you are excused.” You blink at him a few times as he says it before shooting a confused look at Leo who looks as puzzled as you. 
“You don’t want to have dinner?” You try to not sound excited at the idea of leaving already as he nods. 
“I already ate.” He’s already ignoring you all over again, his eyes back on his work as he waves you off. 
So you go back to your room, smiling the entire time.  
You read, you eat when Leo brings you food, and you sleep. 
And that’s the routine. 
For nearly a week that’s what you do. 
You wake, you let Leo in when he knocks, you deal with it when he fusses, and you sleep. 
But really what you spend most of your time doing is missing Din. 
You miss the way he smells, and the way he balances you out. It feels like you’re missing an integral part of yourself, you’ve grown so accustomed to his constant presence and the sudden lack of it is jarring. He made the castle feel like home and without him it returned to its former glory, a prison. 
Just as promised he returns, you’d hoped it would have been sooner but you’re just happy he’s back. You’d assumed the moment you laid eyes on him that you’d jump his bones immediately, but all you could think about was just how happy you were to see him. 
You just want to be with him. 
So you do just that.
And you take care of him, because it makes you happy to care for him the way he does for you. You don’t ask him about the trip, you know he’ll tell you about it when he’s ready. 
In the morning you hold him tight, and you tell him what you were told at dinner. That the king is sick, and you both know what that means. 
Despite the looming darkness, the morning is relatively normal after that. 
Until you get to the library.
He’d been staring at you for some time and you were just about to ask if he was okay when he spoke. 
“Do you know what riduur means?” 
Spouse. 
You’d seen it in the book while he was away. You’d focused on learning words that would most likely be relevant to your life with him. 
“No, I don’t think I learned that.” You’re mostly just curious if he’ll actually tell you. 
“It means partner, or spouse.” He sounds nervous, it makes your heart skip a beat. 
“Oh. Okay…”
He nods and you can’t help but be disappointed at his lack of followup. You try not to stare, keeping an eye on him as you return to your own book, in your peripherals you can see that he doesn’t even try to pretend to read, he’s just staring at you again. You get ready to shut your eyes when he starts playing with his helmet controls but he doesn’t remove it, instead he takes your face in his hands.
“Can I ask you something?” There’s no modulation as you hear his raw, unfiltered voice. His thumbs rub small circles into your jaw. 
Is this happening? Now? Or is he joking around again? 
“Of course.” You’ve been ready since the first time you thought this was happening. 
“Do you remember when I described the fear of love to you?”
Definitely not a joke. 
“Yes.” You couldn’t possibly forget it, you still feel it everyday. 
“Do you ever feel that fear?” 
Every single second of every single day. 
“Yes.” 
“I don’t want you to.” He releases your face, taking your hands in his instead. “I don’t want to either.” 
If he’s about to break up with you again you’re gonna kill him. You might actually push him out the window, he’ll be fine, he has his pack. 
“I don’t want our lives to be that. I want to leave, soon.” You sit up in his lap, the nook is a mess of tangled limbs and fabric from the skirt of your gown at this point. “B- but I want us to do something before we leave.” He’s usually so put together when he talks to you like this. Slow, well calculated words, but he’s stuttering a bit now, his voice nearly cracking as you give his hands a reassuring squeeze. 
“Okay.”
“Okay.” He repeats, nodding to himself before the helmet tilts up with a whisper of your name, it’s the first time you’ve heard your real last name and not Harand, in a long time. “I love you.” 
“I love you too.” You really do.
“I have lived my entire life in hiding, behind masks and walls.” He takes your hand, bringing it to the lip of his helmet as he takes your fingertips, bringing them under it to hold them to his lips. “I can’t, and I won’t do that forever. I have said it before and I will say it again, I have no secrets from you.” Are you holding your breath? The tightness in your chest makes you feel like you are. “And you deserve a much more profound proclamation of devotion but I’m worried that if I try to do that I’ll lose my nerve. So instead I’ll just say it, and I’ll spend the rest of my days after this showing you just how devoted I am.” He reaches under his cowl, producing a small chain from around his neck, he fiddles with the clasp for a moment before holding it out towards you. Two silver rings hang from the chain. “Sarad’ika, let me spend the rest of my days with you.” He sets the rings in your hand. 
You’re briefly waiting for formal words but you realize those aren’t coming. This is more than a marriage. This is an oath to each other, a permanent bond of devotion. 
“Of course.” You whisper, closing your hand around the bands before swiftly removing his glove, pulling him to your lips to place a kiss to his palm. “Of course, Din.”
You stare into that thin black visor, the both of you just taking a moment to take each other in. And for a brief moment you get a glimpse of the life you could have together. 
A chance at something real. 
Freedom. 
A house. 
A family. 
“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” He murmurs, barely above a whisper.
“What’s that mean?” 
“Mandalorian wedding vows. I can teach them to you if you’d like.”
“What does it mean?”
"We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors."
You want him to take the helmet off. 
You’ve never felt such a strong urge to be face to face with him, to really truly see him in this moment. To know him and to be known. 
“And I want you to look.” He voices your own thoughts as he brings your hands to his helmet and you lean forward on instinct, pressing your forehead to the cool steel. You stare at the beskar mask. You’ve spent so much time wondering what lies beneath it but now you know that you don’t care, you imagine him as you’ve felt him beneath your hands. You tumble forward, wrapping your arms around his neck.You lift his helmet just enough to kiss him, to feel that warm familiar heat against you. 
“I want to do it soon, I don’t want to wait any longer.” He murmurs once his helmet is properly situated once more. 
“Absolutely.”
“One week from today. Elaine and I will plan everything and we can leave that night.” A week? 
“So soon?”
“It’s for the best.” You settle against his chest so you’re staring out the window at the palace grounds. Just holding each other for a few minutes until you finally speak. 
“It’s silly, but I actually think I’m gonna miss this place.”
“Really?”
“Not this place specifically, I won’t miss this far too large castle, and I won’t miss the arranged marriage of it all, but I’ll miss all the other parts.” You twist around in his arms to face him. “I’ll miss Lysa and Elaine, and the cabin, and being here, in the nook.” His grip on you tightens in an attempt to bring you comfort. “I’m really going to miss the people.” You are suddenly aware of just how fond you’ve become of the people of Naboo. You truly love and care for your subjects and a part of you is going to miss them terribly. 
“I’m sorry.” He truly sounds apologetic. 
“Don’t be. None of it compares to you, Mr. Djarin.” You don’t want him to dwell on any sadness you may have because none of it compares to how badly you want to spend the rest of your life with him. 
“Whatever you say, Mrs. Djarin.” He mimics your tone.
“You can’t call me that yet.”
“But it suits you.”
You wear your ring like he does. On your necklace. He keeps his on the thin silver chain and you keep yours on the cord with the silver flower charm. 
You have one full week to prepare. 
Din assures you that he’ll take care of all the logistical parts of your escape, he says he’s got a plan and you leave it at that, trusting him to handle it. You make yourself a five day schedule. 
Day one, which is today, your engagement day, you will spend packing and gathering whatever you wish to take with you, you both agree to each take one bag and nothing else to make things as easy as possible. 
Day two, Elaine is going to fit you for a gown while Din finishes his preparations for your departure. 
For your third day you’ve convinced Din to take you into the city to say goodbye. You want to see the markets and you want to see the people, one last time. 
On day four, you will have to attend your final dinner with your current husband.
And on day five you will be married. Elaine supposedly knows a pastor who works in a chapel just at the edge of the castle grounds. She has told him that the Mandalorian wishes to wed a servant girl, when the sun sets you will meet him there, your face concealed and just like that, you’ll be wed. 
When he explains it to you it all seems so simple but actually making it through the week is much harder. 
You don’t pack any clothes, Din says you’ll just get new ones when the two of you find somewhere to settle. You plan on wearing a simple tunic and pants, you’ll change after the ceremony and you’ll have your honeymoon once you’re safe and off planet. 
You’ve been wearing the necklace Din got you for a while now you don’t have to worry about that. Otherwise you don’t honestly have many belongings. You grab a few books from the library you’ve been meaning to read, tucking them into the canvas bag he brought for you. You pack a blanket and a few pieces of jewelry you think might be valuable before buttoning it shut, handing it off to Din to be tucked away in the cabin. 
You can’t help but feel like you’re forgetting something but you push the thought away. 
That night, when you’re laying with Din in the closet you hold the rings up together, staring at the intricate detailing in a way you haven’t gotten a chance to do yet. You rest your chin on his chest in the dim lamp light as you watch the way the flickering bulb reflects off the silver. 
The outsides are rather pretty, matching patterns of swirls and vines, miscellaneous flowers adorn the band. The insides are different though, both carved with the same word you vaguely remember from your book. 
Riduurok
It represents a love bond. 
The difference is specifically that yours has a very small carving of a mudhorn, a sigil you recognize from his armor, while his is engraved with a flower. A piece of each of you. 
“They’re beskar.” He says softly. His helmet resting on your bare chest. 
“Like your armor? Isn’t this only supposed to be used on Mandalorians?” You drop his ring and focus back on your own. 
“They make exceptions.” He yawns, he still hasn’t fully recovered from the exhaustion of his trip and you wonder if he slept at all when he was gone. 
“Is this why you left? To get these?”
“Not just anyone can forge beskar, I needed to seek out an old friend to do it.” He adjusts himself a bit, fiddling with his helmet.
“They did a beautiful job.” You close your eyes as you say it, hearing his helmet hit the floor and his face taking its place against you as he lays back down. 
“She always does.” He reaches over, turning the lamp off.
“Why a mudhorn?” He laughs when you ask, rolling over so he’s on his side, still holding you. 
And before you fall asleep, he tells you a story. 
In the morning Din leaves you with a kiss on the forehead to go handle the final preparations of your departure while Elaine arrives with her seamstress kit and bundles of white fabric. 
You want your own dress for this. 
Not one of the ones tailored to you and paid for with Kodo’s money. 
She takes your measurements in silence, her face contorted in concentration as she notes everything. From the looks of it, she already has a good portion of the dress finished. 
It’s gorgeous. 
Pale, sheer fabric lined with dainty little dots. The skirt is layered, flowing freely when she pins it against your figure, fitting it to you perfectly. 
“Elaine… this is beautiful, when did you find the time to make this?” 
“I started it a while ago, I hoped you’d like it.” She smiles and it feels almost normal. Like two friends just looking out for each other. 
“I love it, thank you, I don’t know how I’m going to repay you for everything you’ve done.” 
“You’ve done enough just by being kind to me, princess.” He manages to speak clearly even when she’s holding pins between her teeth. 
“Please, you don’t have to call me that, call me by my name.”
And she does. 
When she finishes the dress you have to fight back tears, not just because of how wonderful of a job she’s done, but because of the sentiment of it all. 
“Will you come to the wedding? You and Lysa?” You take her hands in yours, as you stare at yourself in the mirror, white lace falling off your shoulders in beautiful layers. 
“If you’d like.”
“Nothing would make me happier. You give her hands a squeeze and she helps you out of the gown, after about an hour Din returns from his day spent finding you passage off of Naboo, laying down beside you in the closet, you’re in only your undergarments since you didn’t bother changing after Elaine was done.
“I missed you.” He mumbles as he crawls across the sheets towards you. 
“You always miss me.” He just laughs when you sit up on your elbows to smile at him.
“I got us a ship.” He murmurs, you barely get a chance to cover your eyes before his helmet is off, his mouth on yours as he climbs on top of you. 
“Where’s it taking us?” You gasp out when he finally pulls back, tugging at the latches on his armor as he sits up on his knees. 
“Wherever we want. It’s a cargo ship, making multiple stops throughout the outer rim, we’ll be able to get off whenever.” You listen, eyes still shut, counting as each piece of armor is set on the floor until the last one is off. 
“What about our great escape? What’s the story?” His knee slides between your legs as he crawls back on top of you, holding himself above you so you have to strain your neck to kiss him. 
“The princess ran off on her own volition. She was unhappy for a long time and finally couldn’t take it anymore.” He pulls back just enough that you can’t find him without your sight, whining as you slump back against the pillows. “Elaine will spread whatever rumors she needs to to make it true.” 
“What about her loyal Mandalorian bodyguard?” You reach up, opting to just pull him down to you instead of trying to find him yourself. 
“He was embarrassed, ran away with his tail between his legs because he accidentally lost the princess.” He lets you pull him against you, his face finding a place under your jaw, his stubble brushing against your neck as he does. 
“Didn’t realize he was such a coward.” You let out a breathless laugh as his chin brushes against a particularly ticklish part of your throat. 
“Apparently he was a real baby about that kind of thing.” You feel a soft bite emphasizing his words as his teeth graze your skin. 
“What a shame.”
“Truly.” He ends the back and forth when his mouth dips between your breasts, licking a strip of the skin there before sliding lower. “Do you have any other plans tonight?” 
You just cleared your whole schedule. 
“Nope.” 
“Perfect, I thought we could do some married couple practice?” He lifts your legs up, resting them on your shoulders as he presses several tender kisses to your thighs. 
“Married couple practice?” You’d do just about anything he wanted you to right now as long as he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. 
“Well we’re gonna be married in just a few days, we should probably practice.” There’s a brief shuffling as he tosses his gloves aside before hooking a finger on your panties, you’re waiting for him to tug them down but instead you just hear a few rips and feel his breath against your mound. 
“I don’t exactly get what that entails…” Your words are shaky as he runs his thumb along the crease between your thigh and your cunt. 
“Well I was thinking all day, you know, while I was busy missing you.” He finally puts his mouth on you and it’s barely enough. His fingers spread you open as he leans forward, placing a single chaste kiss onto your clit that makes you jump a bit. 
“Of course.” Your voice pitches up a bit.
“And I was thinking about how I’d probably come back here and we’d talk a little like we normally do, and then we’d probably have sex like we normally do.” He still doesn’t put his mouth on you, you just feel his breath against you, making your pussy ache and your clit throb. 
“So far so good.” Are you even speaking loud enough for him to hear you?
“But then I realized that we’re gonna be married soon, so I thought we should probably start acting like it.” He leans forward just enough for his nose to bump against your clit.
“Yeah?” Your hands tangle in his hair in an instant. 
“Yeah. You know, typical married people things, I ask you how your day was, you tell me it was fine, and then we have boring married people sex.” He tilts his head to the side a bit, just enough to relieve any of the pressure against your core as you try desperately to pull him into you. 
“What is boring married people sex?” You ask, strained and breathless. 
“You lay on your back and I do my thing until I finish inside you, because married people have kids, that’s what they do.” Finally, finally, his tongue drags along your seam before dipping into your weeping hole, your back arching as you groan. 
“Obviously.”
“You probably won't finish, I’m pretty sure that’s part of it.” He mumbles against you before pressing his tongue deeper into you. 
“Well that doesn’t seem fair.” Your eyes are squeezed shut as he works you open, slowly, your cunt leaking as he laps at whatever he can. 
“Marriage is all about compromise.” He pulls back, a little breathless himself now before wrapping his arms around your legs, nuzzling his face between your legs before wrapping his lips around your clit, leisurely sucking until you can’t hold back the obscene moan that forces its way out of you. 
“How is that a compromise?” You finally manage to grumble through your haze, the coil in your stomach tightens just as he comes up for air, resting his head on your thigh. 
“I don’t know, it just is- dank farrik- missed you- your taste.” His own voice is nearly as needy as your own as he leans back down into you, his tongue swirling around that little bundle of nerves until you feel like you're about to explode. 
“Being married… sounds awful.” Your chest heaves and your thighs tighten around his head as he sinks two fingers into you, briefly pulling back with a small gasp. 
“We’ll make it work.” He curls his fingers, chuckling when you tighten around him. 
“Maybe that’s the compromise.” You muse as he flattens his tongue against your clit.
“Making it- making it work?” You’re so fucking close, if you could just get him to stop talking and focus you’d be able to finish. 
“Yeah, maybe the compromise is making boring married sex work for both of us.” You stammer again, desperate for him to just send you over that edge. 
“I suppose we could try that.” He flicks his tongue against you one last time before withdrawing his fingers, you whimper the moment he does. “Are you going to come?” He knows exactly what he’s doing, and that you are. You nod with a breathy whine and he pulls back entirely, sitting up. 
“If you want me to marry you you better stop whatever it is you’re doing.” You spit the words out quickly, desperate to pull him back in. 
“If you want to come you better not make jokes like that.” He teases but you know he’s incapable of denying you anything. 
“Fine, fine, just- come here.” You hold your arms out towards him and he eagerly crawls back into them, slotting himself between your thighs as he spreads your legs wide to accommodate him. You arch your back and shift your hips to the best of your ability, trying to get some kind of relief against him but he pulls back just enough to prevent it.
“How was your day?” You can feel his grin as he leans down, kissing along your jaw slowly as you paw at his chest.
“It was great, wonderful.” You gasp out as you feel him drag the head of his cock through your folds, coating himself in the abundant wetness there. 
“Now ask me about my day.” He notches himself at your entrance, not pushing in just yet but enough to make you squirm in an attempt to take matters into your own hands unsuccessfully. 
“I’m gonna kill you.” Your voice is already ragged and strained at this point but when he still doesn’t move you sigh. “How was your day?” The moment you finish your sentence he pushes into you in one smooth motion, burying himself to the hilt with a groan from both of you. 
“It was fine.” He mumbles before almost immediately finding a rhythm, pumping himself inside you with deep deliberate thrusts. His forehead presses against yours as he lets out a breathy whine. 
This certainly doesn’t feel boring. 
He takes hold of your hips, raising them slightly so he can angle himself to slam against your g-spot, twisting your body until you let out a particularly strained moan and he knows he’s found it. Your brain is already mush just from the sheer speed at which he started fucking you, giving you no time to adjust, so all you manage to mumble is his name. 
“You- you want me to fill you up? He rasps out.
You nod for a moment until you remember the darkness that you’re both in and you manage to find your voice.
“Yes, please.” Your hand slips between your legs as you begin to rub slow circles into your clit but he takes your wrist and slowly pulls it away.
“I- I wanna see if- if you can come just like this.” He stammers out as he continues jackhammering into you, purposefully pushing himself into your g-spot as your walls flutter around him. 
“Din…” You whine but he just keeps at it. 
“I bet you can, I bet you’ll come when I do, when I fill you up, when I’m spilling out of you.” Your head is spinning from the repeated stimulation as he continues to focus on that sweet spot until you’re both falling apart. He’s exactly right. He comes first, snapping his hips forward until he’s nestled against your cervix. And when he’s done he slowly fucks his cum deeper into you, reveling in the lewd wet sounds and it only takes a moment more before you finish as well, gasping and strangling his cock as you clamp down on him. 
When your breathing settles he turns onto his side, holding you against his chest before mumbling a sleepy I love you, so much. The two of you have been laying in silence for quite some time when you finally speak up. 
“You know, married people sex is subjective.” 
“Hmm?” He hums softly.
“Any sex we have after we’re married is married people sex, because we’ll be married people.”
“Mhmm.” He sounds like he’s barely awake but you just keep going. 
“I don’t know why you assume it has to be boring.”
“Mmhm.” He continues to hum against your chest, a low rumble. 
“Do you spend all your time away from me coming up with over complicated ways to put a baby in me?” You finally blurt out with a laugh, rubbing his back as you do. 
“It worked, didn’t it?” He finally sits up a bit and speaks, his voice is heavy with exhaustion. 
“Maybe I spend all my time thinking about the same thing and you just make it really easy for me to get what I want.” You’re still laughing softly. 
“Does that mean you want to have more boring married people sex?” The fatigue in his voice dissolves quickly. 
“Only if you stop calling it that. We aren’t boring married people and we are never going to be. We’re just going to be married people.” 
“Mmm, I can make that work. Do you want to have more married people sex?” He starts to sit up on top of you again but you put a hand on his chest, pushing him so he’s laying down on his back. 
“Absolutely I do.” You straddle his hips before reaching out into the darkness to take his face in your hands. 
Today is the only day you’ve woken up sad since Din proposed. 
Today you have to say goodbye to your favorite part of Naboo, the people. When you wake he’s already dressed, attaching the last of his armor before helping you up. 
“I thought you might want to leave early, so we can spend as much time in the city as possible.” His voice is still thick with sleep as you get to your feet. 
You tell Leo to bring you as many coin purses as he can before you leave and he returns with five rather hefty bags of credits that Din slips into his bag before you head out. You go through the usual process, bracelet and all the other hubbub before you begin your walk through the streets. 
There’s a dull ache in your chest as you look around at the people. Your people. 
The thought of never seeing them again, and never getting a chance to really help them. If you were queen you could do something about all of this, but you can’t stay long enough to do such a thing.
So you settle for this. 
You hand out credits to anyone who will take them, saving a bag for Vivian's family. You embrace anyone who will let you, and you hold the hands of everyone you give credits to. And once four bags are empty you go to Vivian’s store and you play with Theo, and even though she protests for the better part of an hour you give her the fifth coin purse. And when the sun starts setting you hug her. 
And you fight the urge to say goodbye because it doesn’t matter how much you trust her, no one can know that this is your last time visiting the city. 
When you leave the store it’s clear how upset you’re becoming about all of this so Din takes you to the markets just as the sunsets and you get to see the changeover. You can’t technically go to the Lunar Markets without your cloak, it wouldn’t be a good look for a princess to be wandering through such a taboo place, but you stand just outside the first street and you watch all the lights flicker on. 
Each string light going on at its one speed, dazzling flashes of light all dancing through the air until the entire street is illuminated.
It’s beautiful. 
Yet you don’t feel better. 
You just feel sad. Because you’ll never get to see it again. 
So you walk, quietly with Din, back towards the castle. 
“You’re upset.” His voice fills the silence almost immediately as you walk the empty street back. 
“A bit.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t do anything. I’m royalty, I should have helped these people when I had the chance to.” You sigh, resting your shoulder against his.
“You did the best you could.” It sure doesn’t feel like it. 
“And it still wasn’t enough.” 
“You did more for them than any other member of the royal family has done in decades.” You have to fight the urge to take his hand in yours after that. 
“You always know what to say.” 
“Aren’t you that bitch from before?” A voice breaks through the small moment of peace and you and Din both turn quickly to see a vaguely familiar face. “Didn’t realize that you were royalty, doesn’t seem like much of a guard for a princess, one guy.” He nods at Din who immediately steps in front of you, silent. 
You squint, trying to recall where you know him from when two other men step out from a nearby alley, flanking him. That’s when it clicks. 
You recognize his welding goggles. And his greasy black hair. 
He had accosted you many moons ago, in the market, Din had knocked him flat on his ass for it. Din takes a few steps in their direction, deliberate and deadly. It doesn’t matter how capable you know he is, you still don’t like the sight of him going up against a group of three. 
“Look man, this doesn’t have to be a problem, we’ll even pay you for just a couple minutes with her.” The one you recognize quips and you feel sick at the insinuation. 
“I’ve never been with a princess.” His friend on the left sneers and you instinctively take a step back. That’s all it takes to send Din over the edge though, you don’t even see the first hit, he moves so quickly. You just see the guy on the left hit the street, a gush of blood shooting out from his nose. 
The other two hop into action immediately after, both standing with their arms held up defensively but it does them no good. 
The one on the right is stupid enough to strike first, his fist hits beskar and he stumbles back with a yelp. Your eyes go wide when Din kicks his legs out from under him, he follows the first man as he hits the ground, his head knocking against the stones, in an instant he’s out cold. 
You gasp at the suddenness of it all. 
The one with the goggles loses all his bravado in an instant, he turns and you’re sure he’s about to run but he doesn’t get the chance, Dins hand wraps around his throat and he’s on the ground beside his friends, except he isn’t as lucky as his friends because the Mandalorian doesn’t relent. He boxes him in with his legs as he kneels, his fist slams against the other man's face repeatedly and your ears fill with a sickening crunching sound. 
In all honesty you aren’t worried about anyone but Din right now, it isn’t just the man's face that’s making the breaking sounds, it’s his fist as well. 
You rush over to them and put your hands on Din’s shoulders, he stops immediately before turning to look at you, his shoulders relax immediately and he reaches for you but he winces when he wraps his hand around your arm. 
“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” He whispers softly and you nod.
“It’s okay, but we should go.” You rub his back a bit as he stands. 
“I just need a second.”
“Okay. You nod, watching as he leans down, whispering something in the barely conscious man's ear, you don’t catch a word of it but when he’s done he stands and you both begin walking back towards the castle. 
“I’m okay, I promise.” He groans as you usher him into the cabin. You’ve been fussing over him the entire walk back. 
“Being married means not lying about this kind of thing.” You snap back at him as you open the door. 
“I’m not lying, trust me, I’ve had much worse.” You know it’s true but that doesn’t mean you aren’t going to worry. 
You frown, having him sit at the kitchen table as you carefully pull his gloves off, both knuckles are jagged and bloody. 
“Kriff… do you have a first aid kit?” 
“I promise, sarad, it’s fine.” 
“Marriage means compromise.” You glare at him as he sighs and you cross your arms in front of your chest.
“Fine. In the fresher, there’s a loose board in the cupboard, pull it back and bring me the case that’s in there.” You cock an eyebrow at him before hurrying off to follow his instructions and sure enough you find it, a small metal case. You return to the main room, setting the box down on the table, watching as he fumbles with the lock. He flips the lid open before sliding the box over to you. Your jaw goes slack as you stare at several vials of bacta. 
“Why do you have so much of this stuff?” You cringe at the memory of having to apply the sour substance to your split lip.
“For emergencies, which by the way, this is not.” You grab one of the vials as he gestures at his hands, uncorking it and dipping your finger into the slimy liquid before taking his hand in yours, applying a thin layer to it, watching the blood slowly mix with the bacta in crimson swirls. 
“You’re hurt, this is an emergency.” He just sighs, letting you do your work, not even wincing one as you do so. When you’re done you recork the vial before putting it back in the case and returning it to its hiding place.  
“Thank you.” He whispers when you come back to him, kneeling in front of the chair and helping him out of his armor as he keeps his hands on the table. 
“What was that?” You grin up at him as he sighs again.
“Thank you.” He says a bit louder. 
“You’re welcome.” You take the last of his armor off before standing. “Now come on, let’s lay down.” You wrap an arm around his waist as you walk to the mattress, helping him down as you keep his hands away from the sheets before laying down beside him, resting your head on his chest. You lean over and flip the lamp off before settling in beside him. 
“Did you have a good day?” He whispers against you as you lay your head on his shoulder. 
“I had a sad day, but it was still good.” 
“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He mumbles in the darkness, his tone quickly turning to one of shame. .
“What? The fight? You were just doing what you always do, you were protecting me.” You let your fingertips roam across his chest in small circles in an attempt to soothe him. 
“I should’ve- I shouldn’t have snapped like that. You shouldn’t have seen me like that.” 
“Hey. I want to see you like that. I want to see all the parts of you, not just the pretty ones.” He doesn’t respond, and for a moment you have to wonder if you’ve upset him, but then you feel his chest rise and fall sharply a few times. Your hands fumble around until you find his face, the apples of his cheeks are a bit damp as you run your thumbs across them. 
You aren’t really sure what to say. So you just go with what you know will make him understand just how okay everything is right now. It hasn’t been an easy week so far for either of you. 
“I love you.” You whisper before leaning down to kiss him, your mouth thankfully finding his. “And I can’t wait to marry you.” You lay back down and feel his arms tighten around you, after a few minutes his breathing steadies out and you know he’s okay. 
“I love you too.” Is the last thing you hear before you both fall asleep. 
One last dinner with Kodo and then you never have to see him again.
That’s what you keep reminding Din as he tries to convince you it isn’t necessary, to which you remind him exactly what happened last time you didn’t attend dinner. Not that you aren’t just as worried as he is, of course you are, you’re just internalizing it better. Most people probably spend the day before their wedding stressing, it’s only natural.
So that’s exactly what you do today.
You stress.
You pace, and you stress until the sun is setting and Din is trying to persuade you one last time into not going which you ignore before the two of you walk the familiar trail to dinner. 
You never know what to expect when you walk into the dining hall, but today you couldn’t be more pleased to find Kodo positively swamped. With his fathers condition worsening a fair amount of his royal duties now fall under his son's jurisdiction. He doesn’t look at you or Din when you arrive and you’re thrilled when you see they didn’t set the table for dinner. The entire room is silent save for Kodo scribbling something on a piece of paper, when you go to sit he raises a hand and you stop dead in your tracks. 
“No need to sit, this will be quick.” He stands and you feel a sudden urge to stand behind Din, to put something between you and Kodo but you resist. “My fathers condition is worsening, that is the only news I have now I must be off.” He snaps and a servant helps him put on his coat as you watch in stunned silence, he shoots you one last glance before walking out the door. “That will be all.” And just like that he’s gone. When the door shuts behind him you can’t help but burst into a fit of laughter purely spurred on by your disbelief as Din walks you out of the room.
It was just that easy.
You’d spend hours stressing today and it was that kriffing easy. 
You’re grinning ear to ear when you turn to Din once you’re safe and out of the dining hall. 
“We never have to do that again.” Your voice and excited whisper. 
“Never.” He repeats, you can practically hear his own smile. 
“Can we go home now?”
“Home?” He looks behind him before wrapping an arm around your waist. 
“Sorry, the cabin.”
“I still haven’t fixed the bed frame you know.” He’s still walking you in that direction as he says it so you just laugh.
“That’s okay, I don’t mind.” 
“Then let’s go home.” 
And that’s exactly what you do. And when he opens the door to let you in you realize with a profound sadness that this is your last night in the cabin. A place that is the closest thing you have to a home here on Naboo, besides Din. But he’s a person, not a place. This is your home. His home. You can’t help but wonder if the sorrow is getting to him too, leaving is hard, no matter how much you hate certain aspects of this planet there will always be parts that you love.
But you don’t want to be sad the night before your wedding. 
So you do your best to clear your head.
“Aren’t we supposed to spend the night before our wedding apart?” You tease as you kick your shoes off, eager to just go to sleep, turns out spending all day being worried is exhausting. 
“Why would I want to do that?” He’s taking his own armor off, turning to glare at you. 
“I don’t know, tradition?” He helps you out of your dress and you quickly climb into bed.
“That’s not my tradition.” He lays beside you and you on the mattress, groaning as he kneels to crawl in beside you. 
“Lights off?” You whisper as your fingers trace the edge of his helmet. 
“On?” His voice is soft and hopeful and you smile before promptly closing your eyes, the action is swiftly followed by the sound of his airlock. He kisses each of your eyelids before your lips, pulling you into him completely. 
And he loves you like it’s the last time he ever will. 
He makes every time feel like the first time with how gentle he is with you, even when he’s being rough. There’s always the tiniest spark of tenderness to him. 
But tonight is different.
Tonight he loves you like he’s loved you his entire life. 
It isn’t another first time, this time feels like the thousandth, like he knows your own body better than you do. Like he still loves it even after all this time. His hands can’t hold enough of you, his mouth can’t savor enough of you, and his cock can’t fill enough of you. He chases more and more, wanting only to make you happy, to unravel you and wind you up just so he can do it all over again. 
However you want it. 
That’s what he says when you climb on top of him, sinking down on his length with a groan. So you do it exactly how you want it, which is every way. He takes whatever you give him and you give him whatever he wants. And when he gasps in your ear the single word, posed as a question, inside? You nod, pulling his face closer to kiss his cheek.
“You don’t have to ask, you can just do it.” You murmur, and he does. 
A part of you knows just how reckless that is but it matters less now that you’re leaving. Any children who would be born from this union no longer have to live in fear of your current technical husband, because they won’t be anywhere near him by the time they’re born. 
So you let yourself stop being afraid of that possibility. 
And you let Din love you.
Today’s the day. 
Your day. 
It feels perfect already, the sun shines in through the small windows, you’re still tangled in each other when your eyes flutter open. Based on the way his breathing sounds you know his helmet is still off so you shut your eyes, letting your head rest on his chest as you relax against him for a few more minutes. 
It’s going to be a hard habit to break after today. 
Not looking. 
Shit. 
By the end of today you’ll have seen him. You’re meeting him at the chapel before the sunsets, and you’ll be off planet before morning. And in between that you’ll look. You’ll know every part of him. 
You feel him stir, his breathing picking up just a little as he lets his hand wander up and down your spine. 
“Good morning, sarad.” He murmurs, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. 
“Morning.” You kiss his collar bone, squeezing whatever parts of him you can get your hands on. “What time do we have to start getting ready?”
“Lysa will help you get ready and Elaine and I will set up the church. We have to explain our circumstances to the pastor.” 
“Like tell him that your bride is married?” You groan, just wanting to stay in bed with him.
“Like tell him I’m marrying some random servant girl, but more importantly tell him no one will see your face during the ceremony because of the creed.”
“Is that a real thing?” You sit up a bit, remembering to keep your eyes shut just in time.
“Not at all, but he doesn’t know that.”   
You pull each other close, your movements synced as you do. 
“Are you ready?” His tone is light but you know that if you said no right now he wouldn’t be bothered, he’d wait. It’s a good thing you’re more than ready. 
“I have been for quite some time.” 
The two of you stay like that for quite some time, for as long as you can actually, until Elaine is banging on the cabin door. When that happens you both sit up quickly, Din helps you dress and in just a few moments you’re both ready. 
The next time you see him will be at your wedding. 
You both stand by the door, unopened, when he takes your hand. 
“I love you.” He brings your hand to his chest as he says it.
“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.” You do your best with the pronunciation, trying to mirror how he says it. 
“I will know you forever.” He whispers out and you tilt your head to the side. “That’s what that means. It’s our version of I love you, but it means I will know you forever.” 
You squeeze his hand on last time before dropping it and lifting his helmet just enough to kiss him once. 
“I will. I have big plans to know you forever.” You smile at him one last time before opening the door, Elaine and Lysa waiting outside. 
After Lysa walked you back to the castle things were a bit of a whirlwind. 
It was a long arduous process, she insisted on making you perfect one last time. Her sentiment made your heart clench so you allowed her this, considering it a parting gift, one last day staring into the vanity. 
She spends the day getting you ready in every way possible and you spend the day missing Din. 
Until she gets to your hair and you finally speak up.
“Can we leave it down?” You clear your throat and turn to her as she nods. 
“Of course.” 
Despite how much time Lysa has spent dolling you up you’re happy to look in the mirror and see you. Clear as day. Not some unrecognizable woman being dressed to the sake of her husband, you just look like you. 
When the sun is finally beginning to set outside your window she helps you into your dress.
Elaine really outdid herself. 
It’s simpler than some of your other gowns but it’s exactly what you wanted. The dress isn’t wearing you, you’re wearing the dress. You’re standing in the full length mirror when Lysa produces your veil, helping you clip it into your hair so your face will be completely concealed. 
“It’s time to go.” She whispers as she adjusts your dress once, smiling gently at you.
“Could I have a minute alone?” You whisper back before she nods and rushes out, shutting the door silently behind her. 
You lift the veil and look around the dimly lit room for what will be the last time. Your hand subconsciously wanders up your necklace, you twist the ring hanging there between your fingers as you open the closet door, flipping on the lamp to stare at the bed you’ve made. 
You sort of wish you could bring it with you. Your little blanket bed. But you know better than that. As much as you’re going to miss it, after today you’ll have a real bed. A shared bed, with your riduur. 
So you say a silent goodbye to this bed. Your first shared bed. And you leave to find Lysa. 
You know the plan by heart. 
Lysa will walk you in. It’ll be a quick ceremony and then you will get your things from the cabin and leave. 
Simple.
Easy. 
The church is nestled in the woods, only a few servants ever attend but it’s a quaint little place, covered in vines as you stand outside the large wooden entryway. This is it. You will walk out of this church married to a man you actually love. Just as the sun hits the horizon you know that’s your cue to enter. You take Lysa’s arm, holding her close as she pushes the door open. You’re holding your breath as you look around the church, waiting to lay your eyes on him.
Empty. 
You tense up, your grip on Lysa tightens immediately as you both step inside. 
Completely barren. Not even a pastor. 
“They must be running a little bit late.” You can tell by the tone of her voice that she is just as uneasy as you are right now.
Din wouldn’t be late. 
Not to this. 
“Let’s wait a few minutes, they’ll be here soon.” She insists before walking you into the church, you both sit in one of the pews. 
You wait.
And you hold her hand and you wait.
You wait until the sun is completely set and you’re both bathed in darkness before you can’t take it anymore and you stand abruptly, pulling the veil from your hair and handing it to her. 
“Go back inside, hide this, I’ll take care of this.” You walk with her back to the entryway with small frantic steps. 
“Ma’am, are you sure-”   
“I’ll find them.” You give her a reassuring smile, one that brings you no comfort before watching her rush back in the direction of the castle. The moment you know she’s far enough away to not hear it you finally let out the sob that’s been building in your throat. You don’t have time to break down right now though, you need to find Din. 
He didn’t abandon you.
Your mind wants to go there, a part of you whispers that he’s left you all over again but you know with absolute certainty that that isn’t possible. 
Something happened. 
So you search. 
Your heart threatens to burst from your chest as you begin your hunt. 
You go to the cabin only to find it just as you left it this morning. You wade through the waters, silently letting your eyes scour the darkness before you run through the gardens. Yet you come up empty once again. Not so much as a trace of either one of them. 
So you go to the only other place you can think to look. 
The place you had told yourself just a few hours ago that you’d never go back to, and you return to the castle. It’s desolate when you search the halls. Not so much as a guard in the dark stone corridors. It makes your stomach twist in knots. The rooms are empty, and the lights are off. 
What the hell happened?
Your lungs burn from the constant running but you can’t stop now, you won’t stop until you find him, and if you search every corner of the castle and he isn’t there then you’ll start searching the rest of the planet.
Whatever it takes. 
It probably won’t come to that though, you quickly realize when you finally find a room with the door cracked and the lights on. Any sense of relief it brings you is gone in an instant though as you realize what room it is. 
The dining hall. 
Your feet carry you towards it before your brain can comprehend what’s happening and you slowly push the doors open, stepping inside. You have felt a range of temperatures since your arrival on Naboo but right now all you feel is a blistering cold that smothers your flesh and bones. 
The table is set, and as is the case on all nights where you’re expected at dinner, Kodo sits in his usual place. 
Except this isn’t a night where you’re expected.
And he isn’t the only one sat at the table. 
Elaine sits on one side of him, looking like she’s about to be sick, Leo on the opposite side, downright refusing to look at you. You feel like you’re going to pass out the moment you see them and you can’t help but note the fact that Kodo’s guards aren’t here. 
“Don’t you look lovely.” The nasally bellow of his voice fills the entire hall as you take a step forward. It takes all of your focus to keep yourself from trembling as you stare at him.
“Did I forget we were supposed to have dinner?” You keep your voice surprisingly steady considering the circumstances. 
“You didn’t get my invitation?” His voice drips with malice as the doors behind you promptly shut, his tone is enough of an indicator that there was no invitation. 
This isn’t some coincidence, you didn’t just happen to stumble upon Elaine and Leo dining with your husband, no. 
It’s an ambush. 
“I must have missed it.” You murmur. 
“Take a seat.” He says it like it’s an offer but you know better than to refuse, not now. You sit at your usual spot, every muscle in your body is tense as you look across the table at him. “Tonight was supposed to be a celebration.” His face contorts into a sneer as he stares right back at you. “But I’m afraid our night has been ruined by some rather upsetting news.” 
Maybe you should just run. 
His guards aren’t here, you could probably outrun Kodo, especially with how much adrenaline is coursing through your veins right now. 
Not without Din.
“Are you okay?” He doesn’t sound concerned, the question burns a hole into you, what could he possibly mean by that? 
“I’m fine.” You swallow the lump in your throat, turning to look at Leo, and then Elaine, Kodo following your eyeline the entire time. 
“Don’t worry, she can’t hurt you, not anymore.” 
“I’m sorry?” The more confused you get the more the feeling of suffocation in your chest grows.   
“Your servant, she can’t hurt you anymore, I was actually about to dismiss her right before you arrived.” Your brows furrow as you try desperately to make sense of any of this and he grins. Teeth fully on display as he smiles at you from across the table. “You don’t know?” 
“I’m sorry, my prince, but I’m not sure about anything that’s happening right now.” Might as well say it, maybe it’ll get you some answers. 
“No need to apologize, not after what you’ve been through.” 
You know better than to ask a follow up question to that. 
Something is terribly wrong and it would be best to learn as much as you can before giving away any of your own knowledge. 
“Leodall told us everything.” If it’s possible for Leo to somehow look at you less, he manages to do so when Kodo says that. “You don’t have to worry about any of it now, I’m going to take care of everything.” Nothing about the faux soothing tone he takes on relaxes you, you’re getting more and more upset with each passing second. 
“What did Leo tell you?” The bewilderment in your voice isn’t an act as you fight to keep your voice from cracking. 
“About the Mandalorian, dear wife.” 
It’s a good thing you weren’t holding a drink, if you did it would be on the floor. You don’t have anything to say, any words you might have to say die in your throat. 
“We retrieved him from his quarters and he confessed to everything.” Kodo’s eyes raise briefly as he gauges your reaction. 
Din confessed. 
“Everything?” When you find your voice that’s the only word you can manage to produce as your stomach churns at the thought. What did they do to him to make him admit what the two of you have done? 
“It’s better this way, there’s no need for a trial.” He takes a sip of whatever dark ale fills his glass. Maybe your last act of defiance should be to aim the vomit rising in your throat at him, or at the very least at Leo. “Thank the gods Leo found that book, who knows how long this would have continued if it weren’t for him.” 
The Smitten Paladin. 
You knew you were forgetting something. 
Maybe there isn’t enough time to run but you could definitely jump across the table and strangle Leo, it probably wouldn’t even be that difficult. 
Or maybe you should just beg. 
Kodo is a man of ego, if you appeal to him maybe he’ll spare Din. That’s unlikely though, the best you can hope for now is a swift death for both of you. Should you just beg for that instead? 
“I confessed as well, to all of it.” Elaine turns to stare at you, she looks pained and Kodo’s smile drops the moment she speaks up. 
“There’s no need for that.” He hisses, his chair squeaks as he stands but she isn’t deterred. 
“The Mandalorian and I both confessed to our crimes, I’m sorry.” Elaine is strong. The entire time you’ve known her that’s been the word you’d use to describe her, but right now she just looks small. 
“That’s enough.” His voice rings through the hall as he snarls at her. “You’ve done enough.” But she doesn’t stop, tears form in the corners of her eyes as she reaches a hand towards you. 
“Mando told them what he did.” Her words become more and more rushed as Kodo begins to walk towards where she’s seated. “We told them all of it, what he made you do, how I helped him keep you quiet, how he took advantage of you.” Her voice is strained and broken as the loud crack echoes throughout the room when Kodo’s hand comes in contact with her face.
“Not another word.” He growls, his eyes icy and cruel, his hand still raised in silent warning. 
How he took advantage of you. 
Oh Din. 
He didn’t. 
You just stare at her. The weight of the world is starting to crash down on you bit by bit as your heart begins to beat frantically. 
Kodo sighs loudly before returning to his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You’ve ruined the big reveal.” He mumbles before looking back up at you. “Might as well get to your present since she’s ruined the surprise.” 
This can’t get worse. 
That’s what you’ve been consistently repeating to yourself as this dinner has carried on yet somehow it does. 
Everything gets worse when Kodo calls out for his guards. 
Six battle droids enter from the door behind Kodo, but you barely have eyes for them, you don’t have the brain capacity to notice them because you only see him right now. 
Your Din. 
Din who would do anything for you. With his hands cuffed in front of him, his ankles attached with a short chain. Din who is pushed to his knees, a man who should never be in such a position before anyone who isn’t you. Din who only looks at you, even now. 
Din who made up a lie, to protect you one last time. 
Your Din.  
There isn’t a facade you can put on now, nothing can hide the anguish on your face as you stare at him, you aren’t exactly proud when it consumes you entirely. 
And you vomit. 
The tension in your chest finally bubbles over and you expel the contents of your stomach onto the table. Nobody moves, only you, hands gripping your chair as your chest heaves. You’re vaguely aware of Kodo standing beside you now, he’s speaking but you don’t hear a word, you only hear a ringing in your ears until you look at Din, who nods at you, just once, and everything comes back into focus. 
“He can’t hurt you.” Kodo’s voice is sickly sweet in your ear as he hands you a handkerchief from the table set up, giving you a moment to wipe your mouth as you fight back the urge to be sick all over again. “His restraints are state of the art, it doesn’t matter how much of a fight he puts up, he isn’t getting out of them.” 
Your brain is trying desperately to come up with some genius plan to get all of you out of this but you're coming up empty. 
There is nothing. 
“I’m thinking guillotine.” Kodo’s voice is a whisper now as he bends down to speak to you. 
“You do public executions on Naboo?” Your voice matches his in volume, but your eyes never leave Din, he’s struggling against them, but six battle droids? It wouldn’t matter if it was six Mandalorians. 
“I’m the king now, I can do whatever I want.” 
“Tonight was supposed to be a celebration.” 
Oh. 
“Defiling the queen is considered an act of treason in my eyes, so yes, it will be a public execution for these two.” He points at Din and then Elaine and at this point you have a headache as you try desperately to make the pieces of this demented puzzle fit together. You take a shuddering deep breath. 
Leo found the book.
He told Kodo.
Kodo had Din drawn and quartered. He would have been with Elaine, she was taken as well.
He told them he took advantage of you. 
That he defiled you. 
So you would be guiltless. 
And Elaine corroborated his story. 
Said she helped him. 
They had saved you.
And now they’re going to pay for it. 
“Why don’t we see the traitor’s face, guard?” Kodo’s voice tears you from your mental gymnastics as he snaps, pointing at Din and you can’t help it as you shoot up to be standing. 
“No!” The word is punched out of your chest, all the air leaving your body with it. 
“No?” Din stops struggling as everyone turns to face you now, Kodo’s question rings throughout the room as you try to come up with something, anything, to stop this. 
“You wanted to surprise me? Then we should wait, we should save the reveal.” Your words are rushed, you will do anything to keep that helmet on his head right now. 
“The reveal?” Kodo hisses.
“No one’s ever seen his face, we shouldn’t waste this opportunity on some random dinner.” Is this even worth it? At this point you’re probably just getting yourself killed. 
Now no one speaks. You finally manage to tear your eyes from Din to turn and face Kodo. 
“We should save it.” You whisper, you don’t even care if this gets you killed, you just want to keep his helmet on his head until you can figure out how to keep his head on his shoulders. 
Kodo’s sneer turns into a smirk.
“What a good idea.” You let out the breath you’d been holding in. “Maybe you aren’t completely bland, wife.” He puts a hand on the small of your back and you manage to keep yourself from recoiling. “Well then, I think we’re done here.” He whistles, once, clear and sharp and a pair of guards take Elaine by the arms, dragging her away but not before you manage to shoot her one last look of gratitude for what she’s done for you.  
  You finally look back at Din. 
Thrashing against the hold that the droids have on him until they yank him up into a standing position. 
What you wouldn’t give to be able to say anything to him, even just a single word.
“You don’t have to worry about him anymore sweet wife, it’s over.”  Kodo’s words are hot and vile against your ear as he puts a hand on your shoulder, hovering over you as you watch Din being dragged out of the room. 
He puts up one hell of a fight, one final reminder of just how strong your Mandalorian is, it takes all six of Kodo’s droids to keep him down. 
You don’t like the sight of it. 
There’s something fundamentally wrong about Din being overpowered.
You manage to swallow down the sob that threatens to rip through you as you get one final look at him as the doors slam shut, you fight the urge to recoil when Kodo leans down to plant a kiss on the top of your head.
“Your little nightmare is over.” He mumbles, his voice filled with an underlying joy. 
It’s just started. 
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apricityxoxo · 3 months
Text
Uncertainty II
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hello yall this is pt 2 of this!
Din Djarin x fem!Reader
wc: 3,090
Summary: You are confused, you're always confused around him. He's always on your mind and you don't know why. You hate it. You always put a bit more effort around him. You want to impress him and you don't know why. Maybe it is because he's so irritating.
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Info/Warning: angst, fluff, suggestive material (teeny tiny part not a lot), argument, an oc makes an appearance. lmk if I forgot anything. remember when i write i always have poc in mind, especially black women.
enjoy
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So, he’s amazing…that’s all you have to say. He’s absolutely perfect and it doesn’t get any better. You know that absolute perfection is basically impossible but if anyone is perfect, it's him, you want him to be here forever. 
His big eyes and green face are the most adorable things created by the Maker. Even though he has wrinkles and the fact that he has hair but is bald at the same time, he’s still cute. You feel like during these two weeks something changed in you because you immediately wanted to keep him forever.   
If this child was a flower, he would have bloomed overnight. You watch as he makes himself comfortable in your home, making a fort with pillows to sleep on the floor. You watched as he played with the trinkets you had lying around. He tried to bring live frogs into your home, which gave you a mini heart attack from reacting quickly to get the slimy amphibian from your home, as gross as that was at least he was comfortable to try. 
Not only did he grow comfortable with you, but with your other students and kids that you taught. You told the Mandalorian during the day the child would accompany you to the school. He would sit in on the classes where you would teach him with the other children and pack him lunches so that he could eat during breaks.
The Mandalorian dared to disagree with you, to suggest that you cancel two weeks of school so you can focus entirely on the kid. “First of all, you’re not the only one with responsibilities, my students are also my responsibility. Second, I’ve taken care of children since I was still merely a child and it might do him some good to spend time with other kids.” You told the Mandalorian, now extremely irritated, he didn’t trust you and now he’s trying to tell you what to do.
You’re glad the Mandalorian reluctantly agreed because per usual, you were right. He made friends immediately; all of your students loved him. The child became more talkative, even though no one could understand him, he was a social butterfly. He made friends and played with them, ate with them, and learned with them. 
When you woke, you were excited. Today was the day the Mandalorian will return, and you’re buzzing with excitement. Definitely not because you want to see him, you’re just excited to share with him how well his son did, how much he grew in two weeks. You want to tell him, suggest to him that while he’s on Nevarro the child should be enrolled in school. 
You get up from your small bed and start your morning routine. This morning is different, this morning you put in a bit more effort and you don’t know why. Why do look at your face a little more closely this morning? It's definitely not because of that feeling you get whenever you are around him. 
You think back to the day when he dropped off the child.
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“Thank you for watching him…” he says in an uncertain tone. That irritated you, you feel like he thinks you’re incompetent. He’s always given off those “vibes”. Maybe he hates you? Maybe he thinks, you’re not skilled enough to watch his son? He’s always sent you these mixed signals. 
“It’s not a problem,” you said annoyed.
“Remember to watch him, don’t let him put anything in his mouth, don’t let strangers near him, and if anything goes wrong call me, my transceiver is always on. My transceiver code is 7 -”
“-75292MRC?” you cut him off, he’s told you all this at least four times, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. 
“Um yes that’s right…” he’s said followed by an awkward silence. 
“And um…thank you, I’ve never left him alone this long before so I apologize if I’ve been… irritating.” He says, sounding shy.
You feel bad now, what’s wrong with you? Of course, he’s skeptical of you, you would be the exact same way if you had to leave your child alone with someone you barely knew for so long. You’re about to apologize but then he takes both of your hands and you go mute.
“Thank you… sincerely. I know you do a lot for the children here so I’m so grateful you agreed to watch my son.”
You’re stunned and all you can do is nod to him. Before he lets go of your hands, he gives them a gentle squeeze. He walks over to his son and talks to him with a stern tone before giving him a hug, probably telling him to behave. He picks up his son and walks back to you and you feel your heart racing. He hands you his son and you jut out your hip to carry him on your side. 
Even though you can’t see his eyes, you feel like he looks you up and down. He stares at you for a second before he finally says goodbye to you, and you’ve never felt so warm from someone just saying your name. And you stare as he walks off.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
You put more effort this morning, you do your makeup with a little bit more focus. You try to accentuate your features, like your lips. You add a nice dark outline to them, adding a nice neutral color to the middle. You add a little color to your eyes, making them darker with a bit of brown pigment, you feel you look natural but different. You unwrap the scarf you put on your head last night. You were excited, so excited that you prepped your hair to be styled in the morning. You spend the rest of your morning styling your hair, taking your time instead of just wrapping your hair in a scarf and calling it a day.
You put on a brown wrap dress that was the color of Caf. The dress had a low-cut V-neck, definitely lower than you're used to wearing. It has long flowy sleeves that are wide at the end. The dress is long and you pair it with some boots. You add some jewelry and finish by admiring yourself in the mirror. 
You even go as far as wanting to spray a bit of perfume. You look at your perfumes “Which would he like?” you ask yourself. You internally cringe because who cares which he would like, you for sure don’t. You settle on your favorite, a warm and mature perfume that you haven’t worn in a while. You usually spray this perfume when you go out with your friends or on special occasions, today feels like a special occasion. 
When you finish spraying, the baby monitor goes off. The child is up and whining, he's definitely hungry. You need to make him some breakfast and soon, if you learned anything in the couple of weeks it's that this child can eat. You prepare a full breakfast, a traditional breakfast from your home planet Lah’mu. 
You get sentimental while cooking food from your home. You make a traditional grain and you top it with an assortment of vegetables that look like the ones you grew on your family farm. You top it off with three large eggs. 
You talk to the kid while you cook, and ask if he’s excited to see his dad. You tell him about the food you’re making, you tell him the origin. You tell him what ingredients to use like which vegetables are necessary, which rice grain is best, and which seasoning must be added. You know he can’t understand you but it’s nice to have someone to talk to. You finish his food and serve it to him. 
“Enjoy cutie, should I make more for your da-” Before you can finish you are cut off by a deep groaning sound coming from your kitchen sink. You rush over to inspect the sink and open the bottom cabinet to look at the pipes. You have a leak. Now you’re irritated. Irritated by the problems you get from owning an old home. The creaky floors that make it impossible to sneak up on anyone, the outdated appliances that require older parts when being fixed, the uneven stair steps inside and out of the house, and now a leaking kitchen sink pipe. 
“Kriff!” you curse to yourself, looking for a bucket to place under the sink. When you place the bucket under your sink you search for your transceiver. You start to dial the
number by memory but before you hit ‘Enter’ you hesitate, it takes you a second but if you want this to be fixed you need to call.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
 “Thank you for coming, I know it's short notice and you usually need to make an appointment so I'm sorr-”
“Don’t worry about it Mama” he cuts off your rambling with a wink and a cocky smile.
Mazian Xorsson, you’ve known him for a long time now, he’s definitely…interesting. He’s around your age. He’s very tall and you always see his physique under the tight black shirts he always wears. He has short buzzed hair that is a nice golden blond color and light skin. He had dark deep brown eyes and you’ve always had a thing for deep brown eyes. 
He’s nice to you at least, he's a bit cocky and a big flirt however he's very considerate and funny. He was one of the first people you met when you moved to Nevarro. He helped you move and spent time with you when you felt lonely. When you first met, you asked what he did for work, he told you a little bit of anything, he was a handyman and plumber, and he even knew a good amount about fixing ships. Those were good jobs but that never explained why he always seemed to have money. He made you nervous in a good way, but not the same the Mandalorian made you feel. 
 You internally want to beat yourself up because why are you thinking about the Mandalorian right now. You literally have a tall and handsome man in your house right now. 
 “How much do I owe you?” You ask going to get your wallet.
 “C’mon, you know you don’t owe me anything,” he says with a smile
 “Pleaseeeee Maz, I didn’t pay you when you fixed the fresher! Let me pay you” you whined
 “You can pay me with a kiss,” he says with a wink and turns his cheek to you.
You roll your eyes and begin to walk away, not before saying “You're such a flirt” You go to the kitchen and see that the baby has finished his food already and he looks at you with a giggle. You pick him up and take him out to the family room walking past Maz as he walks into the kitchen with all his tools. 
You sit and you wait for the Mandalorian, your knee is bouncing and you don’t know why. The kid is in your lap playing with the belt of your wrap dress as you zone out waiting for the Mandalorian. 
You jolt when you hear a knock at the door and run to the door with the baby in your arms. You check the peephole and see a ‘T’ shaped visor looking around your front porch. You give yourself a second to try and catch your breath but you open the door when you see he is going to knock again
 “Hi,” you say breathlessly.
“Good morning,” he says back.
 “Come in,” you say and move to the side so he can step in. He goes to sit down on the deep armchair you have that’s facing the couch. He sits down and adjusts himself by spreading his legs, wide. You look at his thick armored thighs and you feel like you're being disrespectful. You shake those thoughts out of your mind and walk close to him to hand him his adorable son. 
“He did such a wonderful job, you have such a great baby,” you tell him with a big and bright smile on your face. You tell him how he made friends and how talkative he has become even though you can't understand him. You tell him about the things you tried to teach him and how well of a learner he is. You told him how good he ate and all the new foods he tried, for some reason, he’s not a fan of poultry but a big fan of red meats and eggs. He's an angel and you made sure to remind Mando of such. 
“Maybe when you’re here… he can come over or visit the school?” you say quite shyly.
“Yeah maybe, I think he'd like that…” he replies
You try to suppress your smile, excited not only to spend time with the kid but also to see the infamous Mandalorian more often.
“Alright, I’m all done but I’m still waiting for that ki-… oh I didn’t realize you’re having guests,” Maz says as he enters the room and sees the Mandalorian. You and Mando both stand but the Mandalorian stays and watches as you walk over to the man.         
You walk over to your purse and find your wallet to give him the credits. “Here, this is all I have but I should have more by the end of the month”.
“It’s all good, don’t worry about it” Maz replied
You both went back and forth for a few minutes and you could feel the Mandalorian staring at you. You finally give up and thank Maz for his work, you see him out and give him a hug before he leaves.
Awkward. That’s how you felt, that’s how the room felt.
“Anyway, how wa-”
“Who was that?” he said, his voice stern and serious. He said it like he knew the answer.
“My friend, Maz… my sink broke so I called him to fix it.” You said and you hated that you sounded so nervous.
“I thought I told you, no strangers. “He said, he took a step closer to you.
“You did, he’s not a stranger”
“He’s a stranger to me”
“Everyone’s a stranger to you, he’s my friend and I trust him,” You told him with an attitude, ‘why is he always questioning you like a child’ you thought to yourself. 
“I asked you to watch my son and you can’t follow some simple rules”
You’re pissed. You’re mad and you feel disrespected. “Why are you treating me like a child, I followed your rules and I would never let a stranger near your child, let alone in my damn house. I’m not an idiot so stop treating me like one.”
“Stop acting like one. Why can’t you follow some simple rules?  Do you think I’ll ever let you watch my kid again?” He argued.
That broke your heart. You only spent two weeks with the kid and now you are already attached. Fine. 
“Fine, you’re right. I’m an idiot, I’m a idiot. So, you’re right, you happy?” You ask, you’re so upset.
“Yeah”. He says, he sounds cocky and you hate it.
“Get out.” You’re done, he crossed the line and now you're pissed off. You go to get all of the child stuff. You shove everything in a bag. You’re angry and when you’re done you throw the bag at the Mandalorian feet. 
“I’m sorry, I didn’t me-”
“I don’t care, get out. Now.” You say and you watch as the Mandalorian grabs the bag and walks out the front door. He turns around like he’s about to say something but you shut the door.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
You ignore him. You can possibly seem to understand why he keeps trying to talk to you. He’s made his point clear, and you’ve accepted it. He’s dropped off the kid to the school for a couple of hours but you know he’s close by. Every time he comes to pick the child up, he tries to talk and you ignore him. 
Maybe you’re petty, it has been a whole week and you can’t stop thinking about it. You’re currently wrapping your hair, trying to complete the final step of your nightly routine but you’re distracted.
Every time you do think about the incident your mind wanders. First, you think about the times he tried to talk to you after the incident. Then you think about the time he asked you to watch his son and he held your hands, or the time he helped you down the steps of your home and held your hand. 
Your mind wanders even more, you think about when he came to pick up the child. He sat down and spread his legs. You think about that a lot, late and night, and imagine his gloved hands on your body. You imagine sitting between his spread legs.
There’s a knock at the door, and your thoughts and routine are interrupted as you pause. You listen to make sure you heard that right. You finish wrapping your hair quick and you go to the front door. 
You rush to the front door and look out the peephole. There is no one there, not even on the street below and you are now on edge. Maybe today is the day you get kidnapped and die and with that thought in mind, you open the door. You look out and no one is there but before you close the door something on the floor catches your eye.
Flowers.
Your favorite flowers to be more specific. Skeleton flowers in a dark green vase with a red ribbon attached to it. You take the flowers inside and set them on the small dining room table. There’s a note attached to the vase and you’re surprised that you're a little excited to open it. You open the note and all it reads is:
I’m sorry, forgive me.
-M
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
next part will be mando's pov lol
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wannab-urs · 5 months
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The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol 25
Hi Friends!!
It has been... a week. I didn't get a whole lot of reading done. But I did absolutely adore every single thing I read this week. I think, if I can count, I read 12 new fics this week. Also tried out yet another new format: Author summaries (or my quick one if there wasn't one) included with the rec.
As always you can find all of my previous fic recs here. Feel free to tag me in your fics and I'll add them to my TBR (please understand that my TBR is long as hell and it might take a while for me to get to it)
Fic recs below the (baby) Pedro!
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Me and My Husband a Din series by @beskarandblasters
Summary: Din Djarin is doing what any typical Mandalorian would be doing after reclaiming Mandalore, finding a riduur and settling down. He’s still a member of the Guild on Nevarro, taking bounties here and there to support his new family. But when he meets you while you’re working the front desk at an inn on Naboo, he finds himself hooked, feeling like he’s found something new and exciting in his now mundane life. How long can he keep up appearances with his riduur? And how long can he keep his little secret with you?
This is the first married!Din series I’ve ever seen (not saying it doesn’t exist, but I haven’t seen it), so this is for my infidelity loving Din Girlies. I love how awkward and just plain bad at flirting Din is in this. And you’ll hear this a lot from me in my reblogs but POOR MAY!! I’m so excited for the rest of this series. 
Oh, Honey a Joel series by @lincolndjarin 
Summary: you’ve been given a gift. a fresh start in a brand new place, the sleepy little town of Honey, WV. a distant aunt has passed away and left you a little plot of land and her camper, the stars must be aligning for you because the local mortician is looking for an assistant and you’re desperate for the work experience. your new employer even offers to set you up with her brother-in-law! things are looking up, you’ve got a brand new home, a new town, a hot date, (and thanks to a series of bear attacks that started immediately after your arrival) you have more than enough work to keep you busy!
Oh look Gin is reading another monsterfucking fic…. Shocker. But anywayyyy, I love the buildup in this. It’s got such a good suspenseful plot. And I love that reader goes a lil off the rails and everyone is fuckin gaslighting her aghhhhhh. Oh also baby Ellie is in this and that is adorable. The lore and the worldbuilding in this are to die for, I feel like I’m reading a mystery novel. 
A Heart For Eating a Joel series by @motherofagony
Summary: a vicious raider attack robs you of human connection and lights a fire of destruction in your life in jackson. joel's fixated on you, and your lives tangle. revenge becomes a needful thing.
I love Joel’s characterization in this so much. He’s a grumpy bastard, but he’s got that wonderful protective caregiver thing going on. If you’re a fan of some mild love as consumption, injured men (and taking care of them (joel)), christ side wounds, and gorgeous storytelling this is the one. 
Go Ahead, I dare ya a Javi P two shot by @chronically-ghosted
Summary: 1. No sex. 2. No touching yourself. 3. No orgasms. 4. No murdering your annoying DEA partner. A Javier Peña-shaped riff on that iconic Star Wars fic.
The TENSION!!!! The BUILDUP!!!! This fic drove me crazy dude. It’s so will they won’t they the whole fucking time right up until they do. Javi is perfectly written and reader is a perfect match for his bullshit. 
Wet Work a Frankie one shot by @loversandantiheroes
Summary: Frankie accidentally discovers how to make you squirt
I???? It’s a fic where Frankie makes you squirt three times like what else do I even have to say? It’s on your kitchen table! And you call him a good boy! This fic is devastatingly hot. 
Frankie Breathplay Drabble a Frankie drabble by @ozarkthedog 
Summary: Frankie chokes you while you ride him
Got tagged in this lovely little drabble and ummmm oh my god? Breathplay is a little bit of an understatement for what this is. It borders on dark!frankie (in my personal opinion), which I adore. He’s choking you out while you ride him. Like that’s what’s happening. Asphyxiation but make it sexy. 
Real Gods Require Blood a Joel one shot by @proxima-writes
Summary: You think you’re as good as dead when a band of raiders find you. In what you think are your final moments, an angel appears. His name is Joel Miller, and he is here to deliver you from evil.
CULT JOEL! CULT JOEL!!! I love how fucking scary Joel is in this. It’s like if the stuff that happened to canon joel got all mixed up with some religious trauma and made him go a little crazy. I loved this so much. It was quietly terrifying, beautifully written. I love the ending so much too… not gonna spoil it but AHHHH
The Locksmith a The Thief series by @oonajaeadira 
Summary: A Thief you’ve known for years and have conflicting feelings for brings you a gift. The gift is a not only a puzzle in itself, but part of a larger mystery, one only you can crack.
I’m like 3 or 4 chapters into this series and I love it so much. The Thief with a locksmith reader is just such a good idea and I love how he ropes her into situations. He’s such a smooth talker ugh. The opera chapter? Pls. I gotta go finish this series now actually AH. 
The Haunting of Dieter Bravo a Dieter one shot by @idolatrybarbie
Summary: "ghosts aren't real, except when they are."
As a paranormal horror slut, it really felt like this fic was written for me… (f’me, if you will, Bea). Dieter being Dieter and reader being done with his shit and then they get HAUNTED. I love it. The suspense is so good. I was actually a lil freaked out. 
Everyone at this party's a vampire a Dieter one shot by @idolatrybarbie
Summary: "you look so pretty like this."
This is funny because Dieter is an idiot, but reader is so hot??? Anyway sexy vampire lady lures Dieter’s dumbass into getting murked and it’s wonderful.
Intimidation Tactics a Dave/Marcus P series by @whataperfectwasteoftime
Summary: You and your partner, Marcus Pike, are investigating a case that brings you far too close to something much more dangerous than your average art thief. 
I haven’t quite finished this yet (actually just got to the big action scene), but I am so in love with this fic. I already adore the way Penny writes Marcus, but then we get her Dave too. And Dave has all these elements of movie Dave – badass, sexy, a little scary – but we also get to see him be sweet and protective and playful and I love it so much. And then also I think everyone knows I’m a big ol slut for a MMF fic and the dynamic between Marcus and Dave is so fucking good. Little baby enemies to lovers plotline and GOD their chemistry is off the charts. 
Just Friends a Javi P two shot by @joelsgreys
Summary: You’re planning to have sex for the first time and you’re nervous—Javi offers to show you a thing or two, but just as friends of course.
I really love the way Vee writes Javi, man. He’s arrogant, annoying, rude, snarky… but also protective, sweet, and very ummmm giving. The banter is fuckin unmatched. And the mutual pining? PLEASE. I’m obsessed. 
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Apologies to anyone whose series I normally keep up with... I've been a lil scatterbrained.
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Happy Reading!
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happy-beeeps · 1 year
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Slip of the Tongue
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WC: 1.3k
Pairing: PoexMando!reader (Mando a la Sabine, not Din)
Prompt: “You look so pretty” “What did you say?” “I said you look shitty.” from @ghostofskywalker fic exchange because I saw someone write Tech with this prompt and it changed my life.
Warnings: language I guess, but that’s it! Pure fluff~
A/N: This is a oneshot, but I’m gonna start writing more for this pairing soon, I think!
“My favorite thing about you is that you continuously surprise me every day with the new ways you manage to be so stupid.” You say, barely audible over the sound of the power tool Poe is using on one of the open consoles in the Falcon. He cranes his neck over to where you’re at, suspended by a harness working on the ceiling of the ship, head angled towards him.
“And you surprise me everyday with just how romantic you can actually be.” He chirps back, sending you a wink as he gets back to work. You’re grateful he can’t see your expression now beneath your helmet, the glare you’re shooting at him and the rising blush on your cheeks.
Your work on the Falcon seems to neverend, and despite you and Poe’s mutual deep seeded hatred for one another, he’s begrudgingly told you that he “respects your craftsmanship” and refuses to take the Falcon to any other mech in the Resistance. You, in turn, get the immense privilege of working on the ship of your childhood dreams, learning the ins and outs of the hunk of metal. Besides, with Poe comes BB-8, Rey, and Finn, and you much prefer his team to the pilot himself. Today, unfortunately, Poe’s fancy flying has not only placed the Falcon in need of medical attention, but Finn as well, and you’re left alone with Poe to work on the fried circuitry and damaged hyperdrive. 
“What was it this time? Hyperdrive jumping?”
“Correction. I was avoiding hyperdrive jumping by gravity launching, you know, going in and out of the different moons and propelling myself forward with it.”
“Both an impressive technique and an impressive failure.” You sigh, and he pokes his head out to peak at you. 
“What’s it gonna take to impress you, huh Mando?”
You cringe at the nickname. Well, not as much cringe as you do blush, but still. “I’ll be impressed when you can get her back to me in one piece.”
He smirks, “Yeah, but then I don’t have any excuse to come see you.” When you don’t respond at first he continues, “I bet your helmet is getting steamy just thinking about me.”
He narrowly avoids the wrench you throw at his head.
Poe is remarkably frustrating, he has the unique ability of getting under your skin more than nearly anyone you know, and you’ve worked with Mandalorian coverts and Imperials. It also doesn’t help that he’s sickeningly attractive, and knows it, and you can’t help but wonder if you didn’t hate him so much if you could love him. He’s clearly got a soft side, BB-8 is the most precious droid in the world and follows him around like his shadow, and you’ve never known Finn or Rey to be a bad judge of character. Still, there’s something so aggravating about him that you can barely stand to be in his presence. Then, just as he steps back from the spot near the wall to admire his work, you see him in all his glory, and it dawns on you. Poe is remarkably beautiful. His sleeves are pushed up past his elbows, and his curls are flopping haphazardly around his face, partially slicked back with sweat, and despite it you have a fleeting feeling of wanting to run your hands through his hair. His shirt hangs open in the front and clings to his chest, and he has grease coating his hands and running up his arms, and it makes him look even more ruggedly handsome, as if that was possible. 
“You are so pretty” you whisper, then clamp your lips together and pray it was soft enough that it doesn’t get picked up by the modulator in your helmet. Fate is not on your side today, however, and Poe glances at you with wide eyes and a smile.
“What did you say?”
“I said you look shitty.” You respond, voice hurried and nervous. 
He doesn’t buy it, not for a moment, and walks over to where you’re suspended, placing a grease covered hand on the cheek of your helmet. “You sure about that, mando?” Before walking down the ramp of the ship and towards the base. You let go a sigh you hadn’t realized you were holding before removing your helmet, and sure enough, inspecting the large grease-print he’s left on your beskar. 
“Dank ferric, Dameron.” You hiss, but he’s already gone.
* * *
You’re in your quarters, scrubbing away at the stubborn mark Poe left on your helmet, mumbling to yourself, when you’re distracted from your work by a tap on the foot. BB-8 is in front of you, beeping excitedly and rolling around your quarters. “Hey buddy,” you smile, setting your helmet down beside you to pat the little droid. 
“How's the cleaning?” comes a voice from the hallway, and you whip your head back to the doorway to see the insufferable pilot looming in it.
“Come to admire your handiwork?” You say, gesturing to the still spotted helmet beside you.
He laughs and lets himself into your quarters, looking at the various discarded armor pieces and ship pieces lying around before letting his eyes fall back to you. “Something like that, yeah.”
You feel tiny underneath the intensity of his stare, and now worry that you may have 
offended him with your comment earlier. “Look, Poe, I-”
“I was thinking about what you said earlier.”
You wince. “Oh?”
“I think you look shitty too.” He states, walking towards you and picking up the helmer from the floor. “I think you look so shitty with your helmet on.” He brushes a hand over it delicately, so carefully that you stand up immediately.
“Ok, listen, I didn’t mean-”
“You look super shitty when you’re in a flight suit too, when you join us on a mission.” He’s looking back around your room now, and your mouth is opening and closing like a fish. 
“Excuse me?”
“You look even more shitty when you meet Rey for a drink, and you wear that one green top with the,” he moves his arm across his chest to indicate a cutout, you think, when you imagine the green top he’s thinking of.
“Poe.”
“But,” and he moves to stand in front of you, his chest rising and falling quickly now, and you realize how red his cheeks are when he’s standing in front of you. “I think you look most shitty right now, with your hair like this, in your rec clothes, hanging out with bb-8.” And then Poe Dameron does the most unthinkable thing. In a quick movement, he runs his fingers over the hair by your ear, pulls his other hand up to meet your face, and cups your cheeks to bring you in for a kiss.
And oh. Oh. You get it. You get absolutely every good thing that’s ever been said about Poe Dameron before. He tastes like sweets and a little bit of alcohol and smells like fuel and something warm and musky, is it amber? He kisses you with the slowness of a nervous man and the hunger of a starved one, before pulling back and looking at you.
“Did you get it? The shitty thing? Because you said I was pretty and then shitty?”
“I got it, Poe.” You breathe, arms draped around his neck. You haven’t moved since you both pulled apart, and neither of you wants to break the moment first, worried you’ll scare it away. 
He makes the first move, going to play with a piece of hair that slipped free from your braid, running it between his fingers. “You really are pretty, Mando,” he mumbles, and you blush before opening your mouth to respond. He doesn’t let you, instead pulling you in for another kiss. Poe Dameron doesn’t need you to tell him you think he’s pretty. He already knows.
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